I Still Believe
by theicemenace
Summary: This short story turned into much more than it was intended. Because of this, the title has been changed. AU of some of the events in "Captain America: Civil War", and what happens after. (Formerly "My Thighs Adore You")
1. Organic Plums are the Best

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Organic Plums are the Best**

 **Bucharest, Romania**

The market was bustling with activity. Humanity ebbing and flowing, a showcase in diversity. The sellers called out to potential customers, urging them to buy their products, which were superior in every way to his or her neighbor's.

On the edge of this mass of humanity, a woman sat alone at an outdoor café, knees crossed, sipping coffee, and watching the crowd from behind a pair of dark sunglasses while pretending to read the magazine in her lap. A small basket sat beside her in an empty chair. The server, a young woman in a green uniform, offered her a refill. She nodded, offhandedly adding, " _Mulțumesc_."

Her second refill was nearly gone when she saw him coming toward her, a cap pulled low over his eyes, dressed in such a way as to go mostly unnoticed by the rest of the crowd. He stopped at a fruit stand, letting his eyes roam over the offerings.

She left the price of the coffee, the magazine, plus a generous tip, hooked the basket over her arm, and got to her feet. He stopped again, and she made her move, joining him in his perusal of the fruit. She picked up a peach, giving it a squeeze. Too soft.

The man chose a small basket of strawberries, undecided.

"Try the plums instead." While not flawless, he understood her Romanian well enough. "And organic is the best."

He turned to look at her, his blue eyes unblinking, a flicker of recognition in their depths. "I know you."

The woman pursed her lips, allowing a spark of humor to enter her voice. "You should." She pulled her jacket and top aside to expose a mottled bit of flesh on her left shoulder. A physical reminder of their previous encounter. "You shot me. Twice."

There was a brief flash of fear in those eyes. He dropped the strawberries, and stepped back, preparing to run. He glanced down as her small, strong fingers wrapped around his wrist. "Relax, Barnes. I'm not here to take you in."

~~O~~

Bucky relaxed, though he stayed alert to his surroundings. "How did you find me?"

"That's not important. And don't worry. Rogers doesn't know I'm here."

Confused by her smile, he weighed each word for hidden meaning, and found none. "Why _are_ you here?"

She glanced over his shoulder, and leaned fractionally closer. " _Politie_. Don't turn around. Keep your eyes on me, and smile. We're just two friends spending the day at the market looking for bargains."

When the police car had gone, Bucky thought about their previous encounters. "I don't know your name."

"Natasha Romanoff. You might know me as the Black Widow."

He rolled the name around in his head without verbalizing it, neither name familiar. "Plums?"

That smile was back. She placed four of the dark purple fruit in a bag, paid for them, and set them in the basket hanging from the crook of her right arm. "Just a suggestion. They have a variety of benefits to cognitive health. They boost the memory, the immune and nervous systems, aid in combating anxiety. And you've had more than your fair share of stress the last seventy years."

Apparently, his agreement wasn't required as she took his arm, drawing him with her past the fruit stands, stopping to choose a bunch of leafy vegetables, one dark green avocado, a single bulb of garlic, and a handful of shelled walnuts. A few other vegetables found their way into the basket as well, in addition to a pungent cheese.

"What are those for?"

"Like plums, they're considered brain food. We'll stop on the way for a couple of salmon steaks, olive oil, wine, coffee, and dessert."

Now Bucky was more confused than before. "Where are we going?"

Natasha's hand squeezed his lower bicep. "Your place, of course."

The tone of her voice, as well as her words, threw him just a little. He'd nearly killed her on more than one occasion, and now she was going to cook for him? Nothing about her indicated deception, but he'd keep an eye out for trouble just the same.

~~O~~

They left the grocery store with Bucky carrying everything but the basket. With both of his arms full, Natasha wasn't able to hold his elbow as she'd done in the market. Since leaving Steve on the banks of the river after the ship crashed, Bucky had avoided physical human contact as much as possible. Now, he missed the small caresses she'd given him without his permission.

Normally, Bucky had no thoughts about the long climb to his apartment on the top floor. Today, he wondered if it would be too much for Natasha, but he needn't have.

At his door, he set the bags on the floor to take out the keys, and let them in. Natasha went directly to the kitchen, giving the sparsely furnished décor a cursory glance. He helped her unload the bags, setting everything on the counter.

The basket was put out of the way, and the paper bags folded, and placed in a drawer. She removed her jacket, tossing it over the back of the sofa.

He tried to see the room from her point of view. The walls hadn't been painted in a long time, showing darker spots where photos and paintings had hung. Mismatched wallpaper, a clunker of a radiator, the old green sofa that sagged in the middle, and on the other side, a lumpy mattress, and a single closet that served as his bedroom.

In the kitchen, he had a coffee maker on the counter, few cooking utensils, pots and pans, and silverware. The refrigerator hiccupped, and shut off with a rattle, drawing her attention to the bars of chocolate, and other snacks he kept there.

Natasha took out two baking pans, and placed them in the sink. Before she could ask, he opened the upper cabinet that contained bowls, plates, and cups. He wanted to ask her again why she was here, deciding to save the questions for later.

Going to the closet, he removed his cap, jacket, and long sleeved shirt. The day had warmed enough that it wasn't necessary. He placed the items neatly inside, hanging the jacket on a hanger, dropped the shirt in the laundry basket, and set the cap on the shelf. His shoes were placed side by side with his boots in the bottom of the closet.

He turned quickly at the sound of a footstep behind him to find Natasha standing by the side door. It was disconcerting the way she watched him without blinking. To hide his discomfort, he looked over what she was wearing. Like him, she wore dungarees or blue jeans, as he found they were called now. She'd taken off her shoes, leaving her feet covered in a pair of purple socks that matched the sweater. The left shoulder had slipped off showing the bullet wound again. In his memory, her hair had been straight instead of the slight wave and the shorter hairs over her forehead.

Natasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and when Bucky's eyes met hers, she was smirking. "You wanna help me cook, or continue to stare?"

When he didn't immediately join her, she came to stand within a foot of him, her head tilted back to keep eye contact, startling him when she took hold of his hand. "You can cut up the vegetables, and I'll do the rest."

A tug on his hand urged him to go with her. At the counter, Bucky noticed that she'd taken hold of his metal hand, not the flesh and blood. What did that say about her, about them? It seemed to indicate trust on some level. Yet hadn't he given her the same courtesy by going along with whatever she wanted since they met in the market?

"I'll get my knife."

Natasha nodded, and Bucky saw a formidable looking knife on the counter next to the vegetables. "Use one of mine. For the onion, cut the ends off, remove the skin, and cut it into thin slices. When you're done, chop the walnuts into smaller pieces. Then we'll do the avocado and tomatoes."

~~O~~

From the corner of her eye, Natasha watched Bucky perform the tasks she'd given him, taking care to do them precisely as she'd directed while she prepared the salmon for baking. Every couple of minutes he would glance over at her as if seeking her approval.

Natasha peeled and minced the garlic, tossing it in the bowl with the rest of the marinade ingredients. She stirred vigorously until combined, poured it over the salmon fillets in the glass baking pan, covered it with the foil from the store, and put it on the top shelf in the refrigerator.

"The salmon has to marinate for about an hour. Grilling only takes a few minutes. How's the salad coming?"

Bucky looked at her, and back to his task. He set the knife aside, and brushed the walnuts into a pile. "Okay, I think. What next?"

They spent the next few minutes with Natasha showing Bucky how to prepare the avocado and tomatoes. When that was done, she rinsed the fresh spinach, portioned it into bowls, added the walnuts, avocado, tomatoes, onions, crumbled some bleu cheese over it, and added a vinaigrette dressing. She handed him the bowls to take to the table while she poured the wine, a decent pinot noir to go with the fish.

Taking the seat across from Bucky, she handed him a cup. And just as she suspected he'd do, he sniffed the reddish liquid. Holding out her cup, Natasha made a traditional Russian toast, " _Za vashe zdorovie_."

Belatedly, he tapped her cup with his. She stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could take a drink. "Your response should be _spasibo_."

Obediently, Bucky replied, " _Spasibo_." He waited until she'd taken a drink to do so.

Natasha used her fork to push the food around in the bowl. "So, Barnes, how did you get from D.C. to Romania?"

Bucky stabbed a forkful of salad, his eyes going from her to the bowl. "My name is Bucky."

"Bucky then. Different question. All this time we've been together, why haven't you used _my_ name even once."

"Mostly everyone leaves me alone. No one has ever asked my name, or offered me theirs." Following his bite of salad with a sip of wine, Bucky glanced at her and away.

Again, she took his hand. "You don't have any friends here?" Silently, he shook his head. "You have friends in the States. You have me, and Steve's been looking for you for months."

~~O~~

Annoyed, and trying not to show it, Bucky set his fork down and drained the last of the wine. Natasha refilled his glass, patiently waiting for an answer. "I don't deserve that sort of devotion."

His companion's response was short and to the point. "Why?"

How could she ask such a question after their encounter in Washington? He attempted to kill not only her, but Steve, the man with the wings, and many others. Not to mention those he'd already killed.

Instead of answering, he refilled his cup and carried it to the window that looked out onto the side street. He felt rather than heard Natasha come up behind him, not resisting when she laid her hand on his shoulder to offer sympathy. She tugged, and he turned to face her. The cup was taken from him, and set on the window sill.

To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his waist, placed her head against his chest, and squeezed. Reluctant to do the same, Bucky looked down at the top of her head. It had been so long since anyone had touched him this way that he could scarcely recall it. Possibly the night Steve had gone to the recruitment center at the Stark Expo. He'd shipped out the next day, and hadn't seen Steve again until the lab.

Natasha lifted her head, and Bucky found himself looking into her eyes. Green, with flecks of a silvery color mixed with bits of dark orange. "Aren't you going to hug me back?"

"What if I hurt you again?"

To encourage him, she grabbed his wrists and placed his arms around her. Afraid of being too rough on her, he held on loosely. One side of her mouth turned up in a grin. "If you were going to hurt me, you'd have done it by now, and I'm tougher than I look. This hugging thing works best if both parties fully participate, Bucky."

He did as she said, and found she was right. This moment of comfort was something he'd needed for a long time. The touch of another, holding on, not judging, offering a brief reprieve from the loneliness he'd endured for so many years.

Finally relaxing into the embrace, Bucky let out a long wavering sigh, closed his eyes, and pressed his cheek to the top of Natasha's head. They stayed just like that for what felt like hours, but in reality, was only a few minutes.

They separated when a beeping interrupted the stillness. Natasha pressed her hands against his chest, and he reluctantly released her.

"Time to put the salmon and vegetables in the oven. I hope you like cauliflower."

She moved the fish from the refrigerator to the oven, pushed the second pan filled with the cauliflower in with it, and closed the door. "It'll only take about ten minutes. Salmon cooks fast."

~~O~~

When dinner was over, Natasha threw out the trash then filled the sink with hot water and soap to wash the rest. A lock of hair came loose and stuck to her cheek. She used her shoulder to move it, but that only made it worse.

Bucky came to her rescue, using a finger to move the wayward hairs back behind her ear. She flashed him a smile of thanks, and went back to work. When she was done, she sat on the sofa, patting the seat next to her. Reluctantly, he joined her.

"You don't have a radio or television. What do you do for entertainment?"

Pointing his chin at the makeshift bookcase, Bucky shrugged. "Read. Been trying to catch up on what I missed."

"Good idea." Her phone appeared in her hand. "Wanna listen to some music?"

"Yes."

A few taps on the phone produced the soothing sounds of a woman's voice. It was a song he knew, had been one of his favorites back before he and Steve graduated high school. Before the war. Before he'd been turned into the Winter Soldier. Closing his eyes, Bucky let his mind wander back to a time long past. He was at a dance, holding a teenage girl in his arms as Ethel Waters bemoaned the fact that her man had left her.

 _Don't know why  
There's no sun up in the sky  
Stormy weather  
Since my man and I ain't together_

There was a gentle touch, warm fingers taking his left hand. He didn't need to open his eyes to know what Natasha had in mind. He stood, and she joined him. Turning his hand until their palms touched, he placed his other hand on her hip. He opened his eyes as her hand rested on his right shoulder and they moved to the beat, just an easy side to side sway with an extra step to turn them.

 _Keeps raining all the time  
Life is bare  
Gloom and misery everywhere  
Stormy weather  
Just can't get my poor self together_

Sliding her hand to the back of Bucky's shoulder, Natasha exerted pressure to close the gap so that his long hair brushed her cheek and ear. This close, she could smell his scent, earthy, with a touch of sweat. At the same time, Bucky turned their hands, folding them inwards, the back of hers touching his chest. She could feel his heartbeat pounding out a steady rhythm.

 _I'm weary all the time  
The time  
So weary all of the time  
When he went away  
The blues walked in and they met me_

 _If he stays away  
That old rocking chair's bound to get me_

 _All I do is pray  
The lord above will let me  
Walk in that sun once more _

Bucky inhaled sharply as her cool fingers slid underneath his hair. One finger trailed up and down his nape, tickling slightly. Partly in retaliation for what she was doing, and partly because he wanted to, he inched the hand on her hip inward until he could feel the ridges of her spine through her clothes.

 _Can't go on  
Everything I had is gone  
Stormy weather  
Since my man and I ain't together  
Keeps raining all the time  
Keeps raining all of the time_

The bottom edge of her whisper soft sweater teased the back of his hand, urging him to slide underneath until he could touch her skin. She gasped at the contact, and he felt a bit smug that he could cause her to make such a sound. Again, he wondered how, after all that had happened between them, she could trust him so much that she would let him touch her this way.

Natasha lifted her head from his shoulder, and he missed the warmth. That thought fell by the wayside when she brushed her fingers lightly over his cheek, and down to touch the corner of his mouth.

Her lips parted, and her tongue darted out to moisten them, almost as if she were issuing an invitation. It had been so long since he'd held a woman for something other than bringing an end to her life that Bucky chose to accept the offer. And if it turned out not to be what she wanted, he would stop.

 _All I do is pray_

 _The lord above will let me_

 _Walk in the sun once more_

 _Can't go on_

 _Everything is gone_

 _Stormy weather_

 _Since my man and I ain't together_

 _Keeps raining all the time, the time_

 _Keeps raining all the time_

Just as the song ended, Bucky looked into Natasha's eyes, and the spark she felt when she first took his arm in the market fanned itself into a full-fledged flame. He lowered his head, and she rose up on her toes to meet him halfway.

Her head spun, making her dizzy, a reminder of the first time Clint had taken her on a wild rollercoaster ride to de-stress from a particularly difficult mission. And just like then, her stomach did a little flip just before Bucky laid her on the mattress, and followed her down.

Seeing his face above her, long hair falling forward, she experienced a brief moment of déjà vu, then it was gone.

Natasha hooked one leg around his hip, and rubbed the side of her foot up and down the back of his thigh. His response was to slide his right hand under her sweater just far enough to touch her stomach. One finger found the indention of her navel. Softly rubbing the outer edge made her gasp then moan into his mouth.

~~O~~

His arms wrapped around her small waist as he rolled onto his back. All that lovely red hair fanned out around her head as she looked down at him with surprise, those green orbs having darkened with desire. And for the first time, he said her name. "Natalia…"

Grasping the bottom of that purple sweater, Bucky drew it up just enough to slide his hands along her soft skin. He felt the inward curve of her waist, and the flaring out of her ribs. Taking a chance, he moved upward a few inches, and encountered no barriers to his questing fingers. He sat up, forcing Natasha to rest her bottom on his thighs as she helped him take off his shirt.

Her nails raked through the hair on his chest, down to the closure of his pants, and that was the last coherent thought he had until he awoke the next morning.

A note was propped against the lamp on the box he used as a bedside table. All it said was "Call Steve" and "Eat the plums." A cell phone lay next to it.

He got out of bed, pulling on his boxers hoping to see Natasha sitting on the sofa drinking coffee, and nibbling on the chocolate pastries they hadn't eaten the night before. But he was alone.

Bucky powered up the phone and accessed the contacts. There was only one number, Steve's. He crushed the phone in his metal hand, letting the pieces fall into the toilet. With a huff of mild frustration, he flushed.

 **Later**

Steve brought the Bug to a halt, and got out to talk to a pretty blonde woman. Bucky's legs were cramped in the small back seat, depriving him of a comfortable ride. To Sam, he said, "Can you move your seat up?"

Sam's answer was short. "No."

Bucky understood that he was still pissed off about their fight on the Insight helicarrier, and the fact that he and Steve had nearly died because of him. Instead of making an issue of it, he scooted to the middle, relieving the pressure on his knees.

Steve and the girl engaged in a semi-passionate kiss reminding Bucky of the one night he shared with Natasha, and how idiotic he'd felt the next morning for letting things get out of hand that way. On the other hand, Natasha had been a willing and enthusiastic partner, so he guessed that made it okay.

Turning his head slightly, Sam asked, "Tell me something, Barnes. What's it like to go seventy _years_ without, you know, engagin' in a little mattress dancin'?"

"You mean sex?"

His companion huffed loudly. "Yeah, I mean sex."

Bucky let a smirk come into his voice. "Wouldn't know. It's only been a few weeks."

Sam twisted around in his seat, his mouth open, and eyes wide. Then he returned Bucky's smirk. "You _dog_! What was her name?"

Crossing his arms, Bucky lifted his chin. "I don't kiss and tell, Sam."

"That means it's someone we both know, right?"

There was no chance for Bucky to respond. Steve came back carrying the shield, and Sam's wing pack. He stowed them in the trunk, got into the driver's seat, and started the engine.

Sensing an undertone between his friends, Steve glanced from one to the other. "What's going on?"

Facing forward again, Sam crossed his arms. "Not a damn thing, Cap. Just our boy here's been gettin' frisky with the ladies, and won't pony up a name."

Embarrassed by the turn in the conversation, Steve cleared his throat. "We don't _need_ details."

"That's good, 'cause he won't give."

Peeved that Sam wouldn't let it go, Bucky huffed again. "Fine. One hint."

"Don't keep us waitin', Barnes."

"Chernaya Vdova."

The car slowed down for the light, and Steve glanced in the rear view mirror. "We don't speak Russian, Buck."

A smug grin took over Bucky's face again, and one eyebrow rose impertinently. "Yeah. I know."

 **TBC**

Romanian:

 _Mulțumesc_ = Thank you

 _Politie_ = Police

Russian:

 _Za vashe zdorovie_ = Here's to your health

 _Spasibo_ = Thank you

Chernaya Vdova = Black Widow (from Google Translate)


	2. Leaping Leipzig

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Leaping Leipzig**

Standing on the asphalt of the Leipzig/Halle Airport between Iron Man and WarMachine, Natasha's eyes strayed to Bucky, dressed in his Winter Soldier gear, and wondered if he truly had recognized her during his rampage at the UN. He had her by the throat, and all it would've taken was less than the space of a heartbeat to break her neck, but he didn't.

By the time T'Challa came along, Bucky had already loosened his hold. To her, it indicated clarity and awareness, however briefly. Of her, of himself, perhaps even of their encounter in Romania. Once again, she gave herself a mental eye roll. That was yet another plan that hadn't quite gone according to her grand scheme. In fact, most of her unofficial ops turned out either better than expected, or were epic fails. Seldom anything in between. Romania came under the heading of the former, except for going to Steve with the information on where to find his friend, and they brought him in together. That part of the plan never happened. She hadn't gone there to cook for him, and especially not to sleep with him. Not that there had been much sleeping.

Subtle movement to Steve's right caught Natasha's attention, and when her eyes locked with Clint's, she received a shameless wink that included his omnipresent smirk. This would be a fight to remember.

Though it would appear to an outsider that they were on opposite sides in a war that was only partly true. It wasn't a war in the traditional sense. Natasha and her team were simply trying to stop Steve's from liberating the quinjet housed in the hangar behind them. Where they were taking it, only they could say. But the reasons had to be important, or none of them would be here.

And why here? Why was there a quinjet at the Leipzig/Halle Airport? Who put it there? If Fury had hidden the aircraft just in case a situation like the downfall of SHIELD came into play, why here? And why this quinjet, and not another? And who was the man in the silver and red suit with the helmet that resembled an insect?

The two groups ran towards each other, grappling in the bright light of the afternoon. She and Clint fought, though it felt more like one of their sparring sessions because they really didn't want to hurt each other. He flipped her onto her back, using his bow to hold her down. Just for a moment, she wondered what was going through his head. "We're still friends, right?"

That smirk popped out again. "Depends on how hard you hit me."

One side of her mouth turned up. "Not any harder than before."

They fought, and he landed on his back with a loud grunt. "Oh, that's gonna hurt in the morning."

Despite his words, he was on his feet again, swinging at her with the bow. Suddenly a red mist surrounded Natasha, and she was sent flying through the air. As she climbed to her feet, she heard Wanda say to Clint, "You were pulling your punches."

The young woman's voice held a note of reprimand for Clint, who had been a sort of father figure for her since the incident in Sokovia. Natasha knew that her best friend still harbored survivor's guilt for the death of her brother, and taking her under his wing, no pun intended, was his way of making some amends.

In front and to her left, Bucky and T'Challa were going at it. Natasha understood the Wakandan king's motivation. Losing his father so suddenly, and in such a brutal fashion had cut deep. Revenge was a great motivator, but what he hadn't yet learned was that Douglas Horton was right when he said, "While seeking revenge, always dig two graves. One for yourself." It was something she'd learned many years ago. One day soon, maybe she'd pull herself out of that grave long enough to bask in the sun again.

She also had her doubts about Bucky being the one who had bombed the conference. The Accords were a done deal. Why would he want to kill all those dignitaries? Even the most delusional killer has his or her reasons for what they did, and there didn't seem to be a logical motive for Bucky to have done it. He had been free of HYDRA's influence for almost two years until his rampage, and there hadn't even been a hint of events that could be attributed to him the Winter Soldier.

Wanda separated Bucky and T'Challa, and Natasha took the opening provided by launching herself off of Iron Man's back while he was fighting Cap. She wrapped both legs around Bucky's neck, hitting him in mid stride, and knocking them both to the ground. The punches she aimed at his head were less than half-hearted, as were his blocks. A smirk worked its way onto her features. "How do we always end up in this position?"

~~O~~

Bucky grabbed onto her thighs, and pulled them away from his throat. His smirk joined hers. "Don't know, but I'm not complaining. My count makes this eight."

"Six. D.C., Berlin, and three times in Bucharest."

They rolled back and forth to make their fight look good to the others. "Bucharest was _five_."

"Hmm. You could be right."

"I _know_ I'm right."

Bucky made a move, and Natasha jumped free, swinging her batons. "Guess I lost count."

He blocked each swing, letting her see and hear how proud he was of himself, as he should be. "That was the idea." They played at fighting, this being neither the time nor the place for the activities they'd previously engaged in. "You never said _why_ you came to Bucharest?"

Using a move she'd only just created, Natasha sent Bucky flying to smack against the side of a luggage cart. He rolled to his feet, grabbed her wrist as she swung her baton. She retaliated, and within seconds, had her trapped beneath him, unable to get leverage.

"To find you, and take you to Steve."

He loosened his grip, and she threw him off. There was a flurry of blows, and counter attacks, and once again, she had him on his back, her knees on either side of his head, and he was looking up at her. He could easily knock her aside as he'd done in the past, but he stayed. "But you didn't. Why? You could've kept watch until Steve arrived, and I wouldn't have known you were there."

~~O~~

How to explain her thought processes when she'd been acting on instinct? "You were on your own for almost two years, yet still seemed lost. The nurturing side of me wanted to take care of you. Help you cope with whatever demons were haunting you. Help you find yourself again."

He made a move, and once again, their positions were reversed. "I remember them, you know."

"Who?"

"The ones I killed. HYDRA tried to take away everything that made me who I was. And they did, for a while. But when Steve said my name that day, suddenly, I saw myself in an alley in Brooklyn stopping some punk from beating the crap out of him again."

With a grunt, Natasha made her move, and Bucky countered, the pair purposely rolling behind several stacked, and shrink wrapped pallets, effectively blocking them from being seen by the other combatants. Bucky brought them to a stop with her on top. "Steve regrets not going after you when you fell from the train. Thinks if he'd found you, none of this would've happened."

"He didn't tell you?" More simulated battle, and he was above her again, tiny rocks digging into her back. She shook her head, and he continued. "I'm not the only Winter Soldier."

Her muscles relaxed, and her hold loosened. "How many?"

"Five. But I was the first. I trained them, but they were unstable, and had to be put into cryosleep." Bucky's grip on her loosened. "Never knew their real names, and they didn't either. Just their designations. I was Alpha."

Natasha nodded. "Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon, and Zeta."

"Yes. Delta was the only female to survive the process."

She laid her batons on the ground, framed his face with her palms, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." His hands curved around her hips, dipping in at her waist, and stopping with his fingers splayed over her lower ribs. "What happened to me was started long before my squad was captured by the Red Skull, and his scientists conducted experiments on us. Falling from the train just sealed my fate."

The smile Natasha showed him had sadness mixed with tenderness. "Don't you see, Bucky? You've already changed your fate."

"You're sure of that?"

"Mm-hmm." Leaning down, Natasha softly rubbed her lips against his. "It took ten words to turn you into the Winter Soldier, and only one to turn you back into Bucky Barnes."

He rolled yet again, looked down at her beautiful face. "You could be right."

One side of her mouth turned up. "I _know_ I'm right."

Letting his eyes roam over Natasha's face, and taking in their intimate position, Bucky smiled cheekily. "And here I am, between your thighs again."

Her smile widened. "It must be…"

Together, they said, "…fate," making them chuckle lightly.

Natasha took advantage of his lack of focus for the fight, and within seconds, they were on their feet again. She swung her baton, and he grabbed it, using that leverage to turn her into his embrace.

Bucky's metal arm felt like a band around her ribs as he placed his mouth close to her ear. His voice was soft, with an underlying edge of despair. "What we're doing isn't on a whim, or for a thrill, Natasha. That guy, whoever he is, he has the code book. With it, he could wreak havoc on the world. Those other soldiers are unstable, and difficult to stop. I know. I've fought them for the amusement of our captors. Steve and I together are the best chance of bringing them down."

~~O~~

Natasha was wavering. He could feel it where their bodies touched. If it came down to a confrontation, he felt certain she'd change sides in this war that wasn't a war. Too bad they couldn't make Iron Man and the others see that they all had the same goal: to keep the world safe.

Over the com in his left ear, Bucky heard Sam and Steve. No matter that Bucky and Sam had this love/hate relationship, they were teammates, and that was good enough for Bucky. "We could use your help, Natasha. Just think about what I said."

She looked at him over her left shoulder, nodding once.

Leaning down, he brushed his nose through her hair to her ear again, whispering, "As much fun as this is, I gotta go help Sam."

One of her small hands snaked around his hip to his backside, pressing them closer together, causing his body to react. His moan was echoed by hers, and when his grip loosened, she twisted around so they were touching shoulder to thighs. One leg hooked behind him, and her hands gripped the shoulders of his jacket. Her lips parted, and Bucky recognized it as an invitation. Or so he thought.

The sensation of falling lasted less than a second, then he was on the ground, and her Widow's Bites were glowing. She touched her headset, obviously communicating with her team. "I'm good… No. I'll come to you."

Bucky understood what she didn't or couldn't say. Natasha's team had called to see if she needed help when she disappeared suddenly. Before they parted, he wanted to say… what?

"I don't want you to go"?

"Come with us"?

The decision was made for him. She grabbed the front of his jacket, and pulled him down for a quick kiss, and a hastily whispered, "My thighs adore you. _Sčastlivogo puti_."

" _Spasibo_. And the same, to both."

They parted, and Bucky headed to the terminal where he caught up with Sam. Though he didn't look like much, the boy dressed as a spider made the seasoned warriors look like rank amateurs.

Bucky thought only Steve could take his punch, but the boy did so without even flinching. He turned Bucky's arm over, fascinated by the moving plates over his forearm. "You have a metal arm? That is _awesome_ , dude."

Sam and the boy fought, the boy ending it by using some sort of webbing to restrain Sam's hands. With his attention diverted, Bucky dived at the boy. The two of them crashed into the railing, falling down to the floor below. Sam landed next to him, and within seconds, the boy had sprayed the webbing over Sam, trapping his arms crossed over his chest, and Bucky's left hand was stuck to the floor.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky cold see Sam touching the gauntlet on his left arm, and moments later, a small drone flew by, catching one of the boy's webs, and carrying him away.

Annoyed, Bucky snarked, "You couldn't've done that earlier?"

To his right, Sam strained at the webbing encasing his upper body. "I hate you."

Bucky let out a long breath. "You have every right to. I _did_ try to kill you."

"And almost succeeded." He struggled with his bonds, huffing with the effort. "Do you mind?"

Rolling onto his left side, Bucky drove his fist repeatedly into the concrete surrounding the webbing, crumbling the material, and setting him free. He crawled over to Sam, and snapped the strands woven over his chest. Sam sat up, and Bucky helped him pull the rest of it off. "What the hell _is_ this s***?"

Sam snorted. "Don't let Cap hear you say that."

"He's said worse, and that was _before_ the serum." Bucky stood, and reached down to help Sam stand. "Still hate me?"

Sam pulled one last bit of webbing from the computer on his left arm, snorting with humor. "Yeah. A little. Let's go."

~~O~~

T'Challa came running toward the quinjet, forcing Natasha to make a decision. "Oh, I know I'm gonna regret this. Go."

Focusing her attention on the Wakandan, she fired several Widow's Bites at him. The energy was absorbed by his vibranium-infused suit, only stopping him for a few seconds at a time.

She heard Bucky behind her. "Natasha! Come with us!"

Over her shoulder, she shouted. "Just _go_! I got this!"

A growl of anger came from T'Challa. "You are allowing criminals to escape, Ms. Romanoff. Secretary Ross will have you arrested, and thrown in prison before the sun sets. If you stand down, I will keep this incident to myself."

One shoulder shrugged. "I said I'd help you find them. Not catch them. There's a difference." Natasha allowed T'Challa a moment to believe he'd won. Then both arms came up, firing off several Widow's Bites in succession. T'Challa stumbled, and dropped to his hands and knees. She ran to Bucky, and he watched her six until they were inside, and the ramp had closed.

Steve fired up the quinjet, and took off before T'Challa could call for help. As they passed over the airport, a blast from Vision's laser nearly took out Sam. He dodged in time, and the beam hit Rhodey instead, sending WarMachine into an uncontrolled plunge toward the ground. Tony and Sam dived after him, trying to save the Air Force pilot.

What happened next would be etched in the memories of all present for a long, long time.

Rhodey hit the ground hard enough to imbed the WarMachine suit several inches into the hard packed earth barely a second before Tony and Sam would've caught him.

Then Steve curved around to the north, and kept going. Natasha didn't blame him. So much more was at stake than the life on one man. But that didn't stop them from feeling guilty for leaving without knowing Rhodey's fate, or for standing up for their principles.

Bucky took Natasha's hand, leading her into the back so they wouldn't disturb Steve, and he couldn't hear them talking. She let Bucky enfold her in his arms, gripping him tightly around the waist. "I really thought I was doing the right thing by signing."

"I know." His hand on the back of her head urged her closer. "You're a wanted criminal now, too."

Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt. "Not the first time."

"They catch up to you, and you'll be in prison for a long time," he reminded her.

"Can't catch what they can't find, Bucky." She lifted her head to look him in the eye. "We're in this together now."

"We?" Bucky brushed the hair from her face, his eyes searching her features, coming back to her eyes. "In case I don't get the chance later, I wanna say something."

Natasha skimmed her hands around Bucky's waist, up his chest to his shoulders, and waited for him to speak.

He smiled. "My thighs aren't the only thing that adores you."

Her smile matched his. "That's good because…"

Turbulence made the quinjet shake. Bucky held on tight when it tilted to one side and Steve immediately uprighted it. "Storm coming up. Strap yourselves in."

Instead, they went to the front, standing on either side of Steve. Bucky nodded at the map. "There's a landing spot in front of the bunker. He'll be far enough underground he won't hear us coming."

Natasha crossed her arms, and shifted her weight onto both feet. "Call it, Steve."

"Because we don't know what Zemo has planned, Buck and I'll go in while you stay here. We'll try to take him alive."

She shifted her weight again, and dropped her arms to her sides as if preparing for battle. "I didn't come on this joy ride to be left behind like a good little girl waiting for her men to come home."

Steve grinned, and shook his head. "You're our back-up. If he's revived the other Winter Soldiers, chances are it'll go south fast, and in a big way, Nat. And if we don't make it, someone has to live to tell the story to Ross, and his cronies, because their best bet for stopping them is to drop a couple of bombs."

Moving close to Steve, Natasha held out her hand behind his back, and Bucky took it, holding tight. "What about no man left behind, Steve?"

"Not always feasible. Remember the airport? We can't let the sacrifice Clint, Wanda, Sam, and Scott made be in vain. Clint had the most to lose, yet he didn't hesitate to step up. If it had been us sacrificing for them…"

Bucky looked over at Natasha, tightening his grip just a fraction. "…we'd have done it in a heartbeat."

~~O~~

The ramp lowered, letting in ice cold winds, and snow. Of the three, Bucky could see Natasha felt it the most. He wanted to wrap her in his arms so tight she'd never feel the cold again. But that had to wait. Stopping Zemo had to be their number one priority.

Bucky chose a formidable looking machine gun, quickly checking it over, and deciding it would do. Steve gripped his shoulder, smiled, and nodded. Bucky returned the smile.

Both men turned at the loud scoff coming from Natasha. She crossed her arms, and made an exaggerated eye roll. "Will you two just make out, and get it over with. We don't have time for you to make puppy eyes at each other."

Knowing she was joking to cover her fear, Bucky wrinkled his nose at her behind Steve's back. And Steve's expression said he was soooo done with all this s***. "You know what, Romanoff…"

Natasha sauntered close, batting her eyes. "Face it, Rogers. You love me."

"And sometimes I don't. Now isn't the time to debate the issue." He slipped the shield on his left arm, and headed down the ramp.

Bucky took two steps, glanced over his shoulder, and returned. He gripped her by the arms, and pulled her into a short, and intense kiss, followed by a wink. "Wait up for me, babe."

As he reached the bottom of the ramp, she shouted, "What time do you want dinner?"

 **TBC**

 _Sčastlivogo puti_ = Have a good journey


	3. Ice Ice Baby

**A/N:** **A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Ice, Ice Baby**

Bucky and Steve waited until the hatch closed to approach the bunker where the door was standing open. Snow was already accumulating inside, though that couldn't be used as an indicator of how long Zemo had been there. The strong winds chilled their skin down to the bones, only slightly abated by entering the bunker. It was still damn cold, reminding Bucky of being forced back into cryosleep after each mission. The mask over his nose and mouth. Tubes going in and out of his body. And the feeling of claustrophobia when the chamber sealed him in. His mind screaming, "Please don't!"

He didn't want to be here, not now, not ever again. But returning to the place where the original Bucky Barnes had been remade into the Winter Soldier was the only way to stop Zemo.

Slowly, one careful step at a time, the friends moved deeper into the complex, all senses alert for anything that didn't belong. They stopped in front of a set of heavy metal doors. Steve had his hand on the handle, Bucky stopping him.

Steve mouthed, _what?_ And Bucky leaned close enough to whisper in his ear, "Will Natasha really make us dinner?"

Shaking his head, Steve opened the door. Despite having been abandoned years ago, it made no sound. As they climbed the stairs with Bucky in the lead, the doors behind them were opened from the other side.

Iron Man's faceplate retracted, and they could see the face of Tony Stark. "You seem a little defensive."

No greeting, or small talk.

Wary of Tony's intentions, Steve approached him slowly, ready for anything. Bucky stayed on the stairs, the weapon aimed at the glowing sphere in the middle of Tony's chest. "Well, it's been a long day."

Tony eyed Bucky. "At ease, soldier. I'm not currently after you."

"Then why are you _here_?" Steve's question brought the attention back to him.

"Your story's not so crazy. Maybe." Tony let his eyes roam over the area, no doubt looking for escape routes, or flaws in the design. "Ross has no idea I'm here. I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself."

Steve's voice took on a note of humor, and Bucky could see the smirk in his head. "That sounds like a lot of paperwork." They shared a look. "It's good to see you, Tony."

Bucky knew where the flaws were, but he refused to point them out. There were things he should tell Tony, events he remembered from Zemo's questioning before the rampage. If this all worked out the way he hoped, there would be no need for confessions. Keeping certain events from Tony would be a kindness. But only to _him_. Bucky still had to live with the knowledge of all the lives he'd taken since becoming the Winter Soldier.

Coming out of his thoughts, Bucky saw that Tony was looking right at him again. "Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. We're on a truce. Put the gun down."

Bucky didn't understand the reference, but refused to ask.

From that point, the situation went from merely grim, to horrifying, to hellish, and not just for Bucky. For all of them.

~~O~~

Once the hatch closed, Natasha re-engaged the cloak. The irony behind using Tony's own technology against him, to help the rest of the world, didn't escape her.

Pacing from one end of the quinjet to the other, Natasha wondered what was happening, if Steve and Bucky had made contact with Zemo, and what they would do to the man. Knowing both as well as she did, her first thought was that they'd take him into custody, and convince him to confess that the bombing, impersonating Bucky, and using him to escape the UN had all been planned, and executed by him alone. But she didn't see that happening anytime soon. Her take on the man after reading his file was that he would commit suicide either by his own hand, or suicide by cop rather than confess, just to make certain that Bucky, and the Avengers, couldn't exonerate themselves.

Too restless to stay put, Natasha once again made the decision to defy orders, and join Steve and Bucky inside the silo. Her hand was poised over the hatch control when she heard the familiar whoosh-thunk of the Iron Man suit coming in for a landing.

A few minutes later, the sensors beeped to announce an incoming ship. T'Challa. Who else, aside from someone in a quinjet, would be able to follow Tony without him-or Friday-knowing?

Arms crossed, Natasha watched T'Challa land nearby, climb from his craft, and approach the bunker, putting on his helmet as he went. That made the score two against two. Time to change the odds.

Natasha tied her hair in a ponytail, slipped on her gloves, and hit the hatch control. While the ramp was lowering, she took the remote, and once the ramp had closed again, she pushed it into a sealed pocket so it wouldn't get lost in a fight. She hoped it wouldn't come down to that, but if what she suspected was true, a fight was inevitable.

Creeping through the corridors, Natasha tracked the others by which doors had been left open. Voices up ahead drew her in, and as she turned the corner, T'Challa was there. He glanced over his shoulder at her, holding up a hand for quiet. She came up beside him, listening as Bucky, Steve and Tony tried to reason with Zemo.

But he was beyond it. Grief had turned to hatred, and hatred to a thirst for vengeance that was now coming to, for Zemo, a more than satisfactory conclusion. He described how he'd plotted and planned every detail of his revenge, stating clearly that it had been he who had bombed the peace talks in Berlin, and had framed Bucky. How he'd used the destruction in Lagos to help his plan along.

When he finished talking, the men were standing in front of a computer terminal that was at least twenty years out of date, watching a video, or so she guessed from Tony's demand, "What is this?"

From this distance, she and the king couldn't hear the audio. She could only see faces, their expressions varying greatly. Steve looked guilty. Bucky looked away, and there, on his right cheek, the dim light briefly reflected off a tear. Why would he feel shame and sorrow at what they were seeing? Was it something he'd done as the Winter Soldier?

But by far, the worst was Tony's. His went from curiosity, to anger, to enraged, all within moments. His breathing sped up, and he turned to Steve, his voice low, on the verge of losing control. " _Did you know?_ "

" _I didn't know it was_ _him_."

Tony swore. " _Did you_ _know_ _?!_ "

His mouth open, Steve panted, his eyes showing defeat. " _Yes_."

From there, it all went downhill. Tony's facemask snapped into place, and the fighting began in earnest. But unlike before, when his movements were calculated, and logical, this time he fought in a blind rage.

Natasha started forward, stopped by T'Challa. "It's their fight. We are needed elsewhere."

Reluctantly, she followed the Wakandan out into the snow. Zemo sat on a rock near the edge of the cliff, holding a weapon in his left hand, and a cell phone in the other, rambling about Sokovia. Now, Natasha understood what had driven him to create such an elaborate plan to break up the Avengers. They were responsible for the deaths of his family, his father, wife and son.

Nodding to T'Challa, they separated, approaching Zemo from opposite sides. Her companion removed his helmet, set it in the snow, and retracted his vibranium claws.

Zemo raised the gun to his head, and Natasha pushed it up, the shot going into the air.

T'Challa hung his head. "Vengeance has consumed you. I am done letting it consume me."

The Sokovian was unresisting as they led him to T'Challa's ship. Once he was strapped in, Natasha hit Zemo with her Widow's Bites, knocking him out. "It'll only last a few minutes." She passed him a handful of the stingers. "Take these. You'll need them." 

He accepted the offering, and let their eyes meet once more. "You are all now fugitives, not only from the American government, but many others as well."

One side of her mouth turned up in a rueful grin. "I wasn't going to say anything, but now that you mention it…"

Taking her hand resting on the edge of the cockpit, T'Challa gave it a comforting squeeze. "Whatever the outcome today, you and your friends are welcome in Wakanda."

Natasha's mouth dropped open, and she closed it with a snap. "Political asylum?"

"I prefer to call it a place of safety where you can rest, and gather your strength for the next fight." He motioned her away, and replaced his helmet. The canopy closed, the engines fired, and soon he was in the air.

To her surprise, the fighting hadn't stopped. She watched in horror as the silo hatch opened. A beam of light destroyed the hinges, and it slammed closed again. The sides twisted amid an ear busting rending of metal as it collapsed onto itself, smoke and flames erupting into the air, making her cough, and stinging her eyes.

When the wind had blown some of the smoke and dust and snow away, there was little left of the place that had been Bucky's home for nearly seventy years, though not a home in the traditional sense.

If she could find the men and women who had tortured and maimed Bucky… what would she do? In front of her was a prime example of what happens when vengeance takes over your mind, and body, consuming you from the inside out, until there's nothing left but a pile of rubble where once a dignified, an intelligent, and loving human being had once been.

Over the wind, Natasha tracked the sounds of fighting around to the north side. The wind tore at her clothes, and ripped the tie from her hair, blowing the long strands in her face. In spite of the destruction of the silo, Tony, Steve and Bucky continued to attack each other.

She climbed up to a set of observation windows, ducking when a blast from Tony's arc reactor passed through where head had been. Each man had their own reasons for what they were doing. Tony's was to avenge the death of his parents. Steve and Bucky were protecting each other just as they had when they were boys, teenagers, and young men in the Army.

Bucky screamed, and another blast ripped through the opening, knocking a huge snowdrift from the slanted roof, burying her under several feet of snow and ice. Natasha quickly dug her way out, unable to stop clumps of the cold wetness from seeping under the neck of her suit, and running down her back. It clung to her hair, the heat from her skin melting it, and the wind freezing the water into ice, making her hair feel like icicles hanging down her back.

Peeking over the side, she saw Bucky lying on the floor, his metal arm beside him, and his face bloodied so badly he was almost unrecognizable. Electricity sparked from the stump of his arm, and his energy was nearly spent, but he rallied enough to stop Tony from killing Steve, if that had been his intention. Natasha had her doubts. If it came right down to put up or shut up, she didn't think Tony would kill Steve any more than Steve would kill Tony.

She wanted to go to Bucky, but would only get in the way. A gasp tore from her throat as Steve straddled Tony's chest, hitting him over and over with the edge of the shield. Tony's faceplate flew off, showing blood, bruises, and contusions that would take weeks to heal. For Steve, it would take less time, but for Bucky, only God knew what would happen to him, and He wasn't saying.

Natasha crested the snowbank, sliding down the other side. Powering up her Widow's bites, she watched Steve raise the shield over his head as if he intended to decapitate Tony.

"Steve! No!" She came around in front, both hands raised, ready to do whatever she could to keep him from destroying his soul, the way hers had been. "Stand down. Now."

Her friend paused on the downswing, panting harder than she'd ever seen him. Then he slammed the shield into the center of the arc reactor, and fell to the side, and over onto his back. He rolled to his hands and knees, but she ignored him.

Natasha ran to Bucky's side, getting down on her knees next to him. He looked up at her, managing a small smile. Their hands found each other, and she held on tight. "You look terrible, _malenkii_."

Bucky looked at his missing arm. "It's just a flesh wound."

In spite of the situation, she chuckled. "I'll get you a Band-Aid when we get back to the ship. Come on. Sit up." He nodded, and Natasha slipped one arm under his neck, getting him into a sitting position with a grunt.

Holding the shield in his left hand, Steve got on Bucky's other side, and together, they helped him stand. They'd only taken two steps when Tony found the strength to speak one last time.

"That shield doesn't belong to you. You don't deserve it. My father made that shield!"

Without turning around or even acknowledging Tony, Steve dropped the shield, the echo of it hitting the concrete sounding like the death knell of their world. And in a way, it was. Nothing would be the same for the Avengers ever again. Their family had been broken in such a way that reconciliation may not be an option for a long time, if ever.

"I've got him, Nat. Go open the hatch."

Steve's voice cut into Natasha's thoughts. She released Bucky, and hurried to the quinjet, running up the ramp before it was completely down. By the time the men joined her, she had the stretcher down on the floor. She helped Steve lay Bucky on the soft cushion, and covered him with a blanket.

While Steve was getting cleaned up, Natasha got into the pilot's seat, and began the pre-flight. She was nearly done when Steve joined her, having washed most of the blood away, and changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. They traded places, and soon they were in the air.

"T'Challa's invited us to be his guests."

He changed the craft's heading without a word. Natasha went into the back, and returned with a bottle of water, and several MREs. Steve thanked her with a nod, and she went to tend to Bucky.

~~O~~

Lying on the stretcher, Bucky distracted himself from the pain with visions of the good times he and Steve had as boys. Atlantic Beach was one of the best. Over the course of one summer, Bucky had taught Steve to swim, against his mother's wishes. A choice he never regretted, especially after hearing of the death of the man responsible for his friend's rebirth as Captain America, and Steve catching the HYDRA agent by diving into the East River.

His mind, body and spirit had been ruthlessly battered, and he'd received a massive electrical shock when his arm was severed. Fatigue like he'd never known before washed over him and his consciousness winked out between one breath and the next.

~~O~~

Bucky awoke to the smell of coffee, and to a pleasant warmth on his lower half. He yawned, and when he moved his right arm to touch his face, he found the blood and dirt had been washed away, and his injuries had been treated. Not only that, he was wearing sweatpants and a sleeveless t-shirt that left his ruined left arm exposed.

Natasha was above him, an affectionate smile, turning up the corners of her mouth as she pulled the shirt down over his ribs. She was kneeling between his splayed legs, indicating that she'd been the one to bathe and redress him. Their eyes met, and he knew what she was thinking. This time, _she_ was between _his_ thighs instead of the other way around. No biggie. Change was good. He returned her smile. "Hey."

"Hey back. Thought you were going to sleep all the way to Wakanda."

"Wakanda?" His voice sounded and felt like he needed to gargle. Natasha climbed over him to his side so she could help him sit up, and held a glass of water to his mouth. He drank down the entire thing without stopping. The glass was set aside, and he lay down again. "Thanks."

"We have the king's favor. He's invited us to stay with him for a while."

He tried to speak again, the words obscured by a coughing fit. When it stopped, Natasha was leaning over him, concern in her green eyes. Bucky motioned her close, seeing the expectation of a kiss in her eyes, he veered off course to whisper in her ear. "Is dinner ready, babe?"

She gave him a gentle push, letting her hand rest on his chest, and looked toward the pilot's seat. Steve's attention was focused on flying the quinjet. Touching Bucky on the cheek, she leaned into a sweet kiss. And when she tried to withdraw, Bucky cupped the back of her head with his hand, and invited her to deepen it. His offer was accepted. The hand on his chest skimmed around to his side, her fingers curling into the material of his shirt, and the nails lightly scraped over his ribs. One knee dropped between his thighs.

Throat clearing drew them apart. They looked up, and Steve was standing over them with his arms crossed, scowling.

~~O~~

Hearing his companions talking and laughing quietly together told Steve his friend was now awake. He set the autopilot, stretched his neck and shoulders, and levered himself out of the pilot's seat, surprised at the scene he was witnessing. His friends were locked in a passionate kiss that, to Steve, indicated an intimate relationship. 

When had it happened? _How_ had it happened? Did Sam know? Clint? Wanda? Did it start before or after the Accords, and the division of the Avengers? He didn't know how they could've known each other for more than a couple of days because Steve had only found Bucky in Bucharest with Sharon's help. And absolutely not long enough to be… intimate.

He stopped near the stretcher, crossed his arms and cleared his throat, startling them both. "What's this?"

Bucky raised up on his elbow as Steve moved near his feet so they could see each other better. "It's called kissing, Steve. A common expression of affection."

Natasha got to her feet, one side of her mouth turned up in a smirk. "No need to explain, Bucky. Steve's done it before. With _me_."

"Peggy, and the cute blonde makes three women he's kissed."

Steve rolled his eyes. "I've kissed more than _three_ women, Buck. I'm ninety-eight. Not dead."

"How many total? Don't need names. Just a ballpark figure." Steve mumbled as he accepted a cup of coffee from Natasha. Bucky allowed Natasha to help him sit up again, also taking a coffee. "Didn't hear that. Say again."

Steve looked at Bucky and away, speaking as he brought the cup to his mouth. "Four."

Bucky sipped his coffee so he wouldn't burst out laughing then passed the cup to Natasha, and lay down again, giving her a smile of thanks. She gripped his hand briefly, and followed Steve to the front. "I know you have questions, but there are more pressing concerns."

"Our people who were left behind. We have to mount a rescue. Where would Ross have taken them?"

"There's a special prison for certain types of criminals. It's so remote, and so secure, only high-ranking SHIELD agents, and those who've drawn duty there know where it is."

"And you're one of those people." An indicator on the HUD blinked for attention. "We'll be in Wakandan airspace soon. You and Bucky should strap in, just in case." He adjusted his heading by a few degrees, saying over his shoulder, "We'll talk later."

~~O~~

In the back, Natasha found Bucky trying to stand. She lent a shoulder, and got him to his feet. His smile was for her alone as she lowered him into one of the jump seats. Her nimble fingers had him strapped in within seconds then she leaned close, brushing a kiss over his lips. "Relax, _malenkii_. T'Challa's on our side."

"Still, every time he looks at me, he'll be reminded of his father's death."

"You didn't do it, and he's knows that."

From the front, Steve called out, "Get ready. We're crossing into Wakandan air space."

Natasha took the jump seat next to Bucky, holding his hand as they landed in the place that would be their home for the foreseeable future.

Steve joined them a moment later. Bucky shook his head at Steve's silent question, preferring to exit the quinjet under his own power.

Together, the trio stepped onto Wakandan soil, and were immediately surrounded by heavily armed soldiers.

 **TBC**


	4. We re Not Broken Just Bent

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **We're Not Broken, Just Bent**

 **Washington D.C.**

Sitting in his office, Thaddeus Ross stared at the phone, wishing he were the kind of person to lash out in anger just so he could hit or break something. Dealing with Tony Stark was a lesson in patience, persistence, and futility. Ross had called Tony on several occasions since the fight in Leipzig. Each time, the billionaire had put him on hold, and never came back.

His next step would be to confront him in person regarding his visit to The Raft, and the talk he had with Sam Wilson during the audio outage that had no doubt been caused by Tony in the first place. Ross had known that Tony was lying when he said Wilson hadn't given him anything on the whereabouts of Rogers, Romanoff, and Barnes. Not when the man had turned up battered, and bruised, barely able to walk upright and a haunted, desolate look in his eyes.

Word from his sources said Tony now had possession of the shield, but that couldn't be confirmed. The Falcon pack sat in the corner out of the way. It and the shield had vanished from the secure lock-up during the blackout. He had several suspects, but no one he could definitively point to as the culprit and absolutely no proof. The pack had been reclaimed at the airport when Wilson was taken into custody. Ross was keeping it close by just in case.

Everett Ross had Helmut Zemo in maximum security in the Berlin office. The man had been interrogated for hours, yet he hardly said a word in his own defense. The background check had turned up some interesting facts about Zemo. He had once been a Sokovian intelligence officer, and commander of a covert kill squad. His father, wife and son were killed during the Ultron incident.

Ross understood how grief could drive you to desperation. He'd seen it many times in his career, both in the military, and now as Secretary of State. The position gave him the power he needed to make changes, not only to the way the world thought of enhanced humans.

He got up and went to the window, hands in his pockets, gazing out over the Washington D.C. skyline. "Where the hell is Banner?" Ross said to the room. "He's the most dangerous of them all, needs to be contained, but how? Another Raft?"

Now that he was thinking about the Raft again, Ross played Tony's interaction with his former teammates. Barton's diatribe had skirted the edge of protesting too much. Nor had he been surprised at Tony's arrival. Lang too. Maximoff had merely stared into the distance, the light of fear in her eyes. And why not? She'd fought the straight jacket and shock collar to the point that the doctor had to sedate her. And that sent her three male companions into a sea of chivalry. Why hadn't they thought of that before they took a dangerous child into a war zone?

Then there was Wilson. Of the four, Tony knew he'd be the one most likely to spill the beans about where Barnes, Rogers and Romanoff had gone. And given how fast Tony took off, the info had to be time sensitive.

Ross went to his desk, and picked up the phone, dialing a number from memory. "This is Secretary Ross. The prisoners will probably attempt an escape in the next week or so. I want everyone on alert. Let my assistant know if you need additional personnel."

He dropped the phone back in the cradle, and leaned both hands on the desk. Yes, the Accords had been his idea, and with the right incentives applied, most of the countries in the UN had signed them as well. Now some of them were backpedaling, saying that perhaps they were too hasty in ratifying them without a little more thought.

With close to half of the countries calling for a major overhaul, the president was on Ross's back as well. And all because of Zemo. Now that the world knows the Winter Soldier wasn't responsible for the peace conference deaths, more heads of state are on his side. Particularly Wakanda. Ross didn't know how they did it, but Rogers, Barnes, and Romanoff convinced the new king to switch sides.

Ross sat in his custom made office chair, rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other, convinced he was doing what was best for America, and the world.

 **Wakanda**

The head of security, a tall slender woman, stepped forward as her team raised their weapons. Her eyes landed on Natasha, hardening upon seeing the woman who dared to defy her. Natasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other, leveling her gaze on the woman.

"My name is Imani. I am his highness's head of security." With a nod, she told the soldiers to stand down. "King T'Challa has ordered that you be treated as honored guests."

Steve glanced left and right, and stepped forward, taking his place as their leader. "We're honored to be here, Imani." He made a gesture that included all of them. "As you can see, we need medical attention."

Imani lifted her chin at two of the guards. The first woman, her badge gave her name as A. Okonjo, opened a door, and stood aside to let Steve and his companions go ahead, then she, and the second guard, T. Bankole, followed. The woman moved in front, leading the way to the lifts. They got inside. She used a key card to enable the lift, and setting it in motion with the touch of a button.

As the car came to a stop, Natasha spoke up. "We're also hungry, tired, and need a shower."

Okonjo led the way down the hall to the clinic and medical research department. She made introductions, indicating the man, "Dr. Elimu Jaheem," her eyes moved to the woman, "and Dr. Sela Aguda. They are his highness's personal physicians, as well as the heads of medical and cybernetic research."

For the first time since they left the quinjet, Bucky showed interest. He moved his left shoulder. "Perfect. I need both."

Okonjo turned to the three Americans. "Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Bucky Barnes, guests of King T'Challa."

Jaheem motioned to four empty beds set up like an emergency room. "I'll have my staff tend to your injuries, after you've showered and changed, except for you, Mr. Barnes. My colleague, Dr. Aguda will need to perform repairs to your biomechanical limb before you can shower."

"Whatever works. I'm too tired to care at the moment."

A nurse handed Steve and Natasha a set of scrubs then led them down the hall to the showers. "Leave your clothes, and I'll have someone take them to be cleaned." A few minutes after they'd closed the doors, he heard the water running next door, and Natasha singing a song in Russian. At the moment, he neither knew nor cared what it meant. His mind was occupied with the fact that she and Bucky had a relationship, one that had gone on long enough for them to be intimate, to go by the kiss they'd shared on the ship. Once they'd eaten and gotten some rest, he would question one or both. Whether they would tell him the truth was another thing. Natasha could lie and make it seem the truth. But he could always tell when his best friend was lying. Or could he? Bucky was different now than he had been when they'd gone after the Red Skull. _He_ was different too.

Steve turned on the water, adjusting the temperature to as hot as he could stand it, took off his clothes, and stepped under the spray. The cuts, scrapes, and lacerations stung when the water hit them, and again when he rubbed them with the special soap.

Soon, the water shut off next door. Steve washed and rinsed his hair, dried off with the fluffy white towel, and pulled on the scrubs. He rushed into the hall, hoping to catch Natasha, only to find her waiting for him. They fell into step together as they returned to the clinic.

"It's a long story."

"What is?"

She snorted. "You don't do clueless any better than you lie, Rogers. You have a ton of questions about what you witnessed." She drew him to stop before he could open the clinic door. "Even Bucky doesn't know the whole story. Before I tell it to you, I need to tell it to him. Not all of it's pretty. If he's okay with you being there, then so am I."

Dumfounded, Steve could only stare as Natasha let them into the clinic, going to the bed where she'd changed. The Widow's Bites, and her other weapons were laid out neatly on the bedside table. Steve's only weapon had been the shield, and that had been repossessed by the son of the man who'd given it to him in the first place. Rather than belabor the point with a man who was emotionally distraught, he let it go, and with it, he let go of Captain America. Anything he did from now on, he would do as Steve Rogers. Not a superhero. Just a concerned citizen of the world.

The female doctor came to them with a benevolent smile, her teeth shockingly white against her dark skin. "Your clothing will be returned to you by the end of the day. Rooms are being prepared for the two of you. However, due to his condition, your friend will need to remain in the clinic for the night."

Natasha started to speak, then deferred to Steve. "Can we see him?"

"Of course. Once your injuries have been tended, the three of you can eat together, after which, Mr. Barnes will need to return for further tests, and monitoring."

"Thank you."

The nurses returned, and Steve let his mind wander at Natasha's near-confession, trying to make sense of it all.

~~O~~

Walking between Steve and Natasha, Bucky fought another yawn, closing his mouth with a snap at the soft, barely-there touch on the back of his right hand. He looked to the side without turning his head, but she was staring straight ahead, though the side of her mouth closest to him curved upward in a smile. Without thinking, he returned it, prompting a comment from Steve.

"Something funny, Buck?"

For a split second, Bucky almost told the truth, changing his mind at the last moment. "Rockaway Beach."

Steve chuckled. "We rode home in the back of that freezer truck because _you_ blew our train money trying to win a stuffed bear for that redhead."

He vaguely remembered. "What was her name?"

"Delores. You called her Dot."

Bucky shook his head. "She's gotta be about a hundred years old right now."

"So are we, pal."

Steve opened the door, both men standing back so Natasha could go in ahead of them. The guards had stayed behind them the entire way from the scientific wing. They stayed outside, to keep them safe, or to keep them confined, Bucky didn't know or care at the moment. He was hungry, and thirsty. And most of all, he wanted to be alone with Natasha for a few minutes. He wanted one of her special hugs, like she'd given him in Bucharest. Now that he was thinking about that day again, the feeling of familiarity whispered in his brain. As if that hadn't been the first time they'd been close. Not intimate, but physical proximity.

His memory flashed on a vision of her at a younger, more vulnerable age, with long red hair that fell almost to her waist, and curled on the ends. Had they met prior to the first time he shot her? She hadn't been his mission, but she had placed herself between him and the target to be sanctioned. He'd done the most expedient thing possible. He shot the target through her, knowing exactly where to place the shot to minimize the damage to her while inflicting the maximum on the target in order to complete his mission.

When he told Tony he remembered them all, Bucky had been telling the truth, just not the whole of it. There were other times he didn't quite remember, though they had nothing to do with sanctioning a target.

Inside the private dining room, Natasha marched to the long table, taking the seat on the end, sharing a look that there were only three place settings. Bucky sat to her left and Steve on her right.

They'd only been seated long enough to place their napkins in their laps when a young man in uniform came into the room carrying a tray, followed by a woman wearing gloves, and holding a bottle of wine.

The young man placed a variety of salad dressings on the table, each one in a crystal carafe. He then placed a salad bowl in front of each of them, and just as quietly, was gone.

The young woman poured the wine, and Steve smiled his thanks. "Won't his majesty be joining us?"

She glanced at him and away, moving on to Natasha. "He will not." She didn't offer any further explanation as she completed her task, and left.

Bucky picked up his wine glass, and waited for his friends to do so as well. He caught and held Natasha's gaze. " _Salut_."

They clinked glasses, and Steve followed his lead. " _Prost_."

Natasha concluded with, " _Za vashe zdorovie_." They chuckled together, and drank. She set her glass on the table, and pulled a small device from the pocket of her scrub top and laid it next to her plate. A small blue light blinked to show it was active. "They won't be able to record our conversation."

Steve poured dressing over his salad. "That's not being a good guest, Nat."

She pushed the food around in the bowl, and speared some of the lettuce. "Don't suppose it matters. Most of it's on the Internet." Her eyes found Bucky's. "What about you?"

Bucky shrugged one shoulder. "Doesn't matter."

Her fingers touched the device, and the light went out. "Bucky, what do you remember about the first time we met?"

A little uncomfortable with talking about his Winter Solder past, Bucky wished that she'd left the jammer on. "Seven years ago. A cliff near Odessa."

Natasha chewed, and swallowed, took a drink of wine, and when her eyes met his again, they were unreadable. "Think back to Stalingrad, winter of 1998."

Closing his eyes, Bucky tried hard to remember, knowing it might be futile. HYDRA only let him remember certain events, and wiped others, the way they did in D.C. after the fight with Steve, Natasha, and Sam on the bridge. But would Natasha believe him?

"What's this about, Nat?" Steve asked.

Her eyes dropped to her plate, and back up. "That year, a man was brought into the Red Room for intensive hand-to-hand training with a handpicked few. He wore a mask, and didn't speak. We were told not to talk to him, just to engage. His black clothing covered him from neck to feet. While he and I were training, his shirt tore."

Involuntarily, Bucky looked at his missing left arm. "You saw a red star on his bicep."

The servers came in with three covered plates on a cart. The man removed their salad bowls while the woman set a plate in front of each of them, and removed the cover. Just as quietly, they left again. "Afterward, his handlers took him away, and I didn't see him again until…"

Steve finished for her. "…seven years ago in Odessa."

"Yes."

Bucky's hand found hers under the table. She squeezed tight, and he knew that wasn't the end of the story. Or rather she'd left something out. He could've asked, but he didn't want to know. Reclaiming his hand, he pushed his plate away. "I've lost my appetite."

~~O~~

Though he was no longer eating, Bucky had to be starving. Natasha knew that if he didn't eat, he'd be up in a couple of hours looking for food, just like Steve sometimes did at night. She'd watched him attempt to deal with the meal without asking for help, not certain he would accept her assistance.

Natasha drew his plate to her, and using her own knife and fork, she cut up his food, scooped up a forkful, and held it out to him. "Open."

His eyes held hers for a moment then flicked to Steve and back, one side of his mouth turning up. Though she couldn't see Steve, she knew he was having a laugh at his friend's expense. Before she could push the plate in front of Bucky so he could feed himself, he guided her hand to him, and allowed her to feed him. He chewed, and swallowed, patiently waiting for the next bite.

She scooped more of the Wakandan version of Moroccan peach roasted chicken, and held it out. Nodding at the now covered stump of his left arm. "Does it hurt?"

Bucky looked at the cap covering it, and shook his head. "When it happened, I received a strong jolt of electrical feedback, and yes, that hurt. But not now."

"Good." She continued to feed Bucky, and in between, fed herself, and drank the wine. It had a slightly different flavor than she was used to, putting it down to the type of grapes, and the lush Wakandan soil in which they grew.

Bucky accepted the last bite, and without thinking, Natasha started to wipe his mouth with her napkin, stopping when Steve cleared his throat. "You know, I'm still here."

She dropped the napkin in her lap, and reached for the water glass. "We know. We're ignoring you."

He shook his head, chuckling. "Nothing much changes, does it, Buck?" He waved his fork to include all of them. "This is like nearly every double date we went on, except then, I was being ignored by _two_ women."

Bucky's grin made him appear younger, less world-weary. "That's the past, Stevie. Let's think about the future."

"Speaking of the past, nothing in your story tells me how this," Steve waved a hand at Natasha and Bucky, "started."

The door opened once more, the servers bringing Mulva pudding for dessert, and coffee.

Seeing that Steve wouldn't let it go, Natasha sighed. "Something about our fight in D.C. felt familiar. While you and Sam were looking for Bucky, I was too, but for a different reason. I had to know if he was the same man who'd been brought to the Red Room shortly before the graduation ceremony.

"Most of my leads went nowhere, until a few weeks before Lagos, when I heard from a contact in Bucharest. He was certain a man that had been coming to the farmer's market was you." She looked at Bucky, her hand touching his under the table again. "I sat at that same café every day for almost a week before seeing you. My plan was to follow you, and report your location to Steve. Together, we'd bring you home."

"But that's not what happened."

Natasha held her hand out over the table, and after a quick look at Steve, Bucky took it. "It's as I told you at the airport. You looked lost, and lonely. In need of a friend, not a betrayer. And if I'd called Steve, that's what it would've felt like. There'd already been too much of that in your life. I didn't want to add to it. So instead of turning you in…"

"You made me dinner, and afterward, we danced."

One side of her mouth turned up. "That's not all we did."

Steve interrupted before Natasha could open her mouth. "I get the picture. But we have more important issues to discuss."

With that one sentence, the feel of the room changed. It was time to talk about the other elephant in the room. "I agree, Steve. We need to work on a plan to rescue our teammates."

"You're sure they're in this super-secure facility?"

"I'll make a few calls in the morning to be certain." She finished off her wine and set the glass aside. Within moments, the servers were back, gathering up the dishes, and fading out of sight once more. "The Raft is the most secure prison on the planet. No one has ever broken out, and lived to talk about it."

"What makes this one so special?"

Natasha pushed back from the table, crossing one leg over the other. "Let's just say there's a good reason it's called the Raft." She looked from Steve to Bucky and back. "It's an underwater facility, and only comes to the surface for supplies, personnel changes or TDY, maintenance, or when they have visitors, mostly top officials, or council members who want the fifty-cent tour."

Under the table, Bucky brushed his fingers over her thigh, yet she continued speak without missing a beat. "We just have to convince them that we fall into one of those categories."

Steve swallowed the last bite of his dessert, wiped his mouth, and tossed the napkin on the table. "How do we do that?"

"Leave that to me, Rogers. I know a guy."

 **TBC**

 _Just Give Me a Reason_ is a song recorded by American singer and songwriter Pink featuring Nate Ruess.


	5. Ain't No Sunshine

**A/N:** **A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Ain't No Sunshine**

When Natasha told Bucky and Steve that she knew a guy who could help them break their friends out of prison, she meant she knew a _woman_ who knew a guy who would help. Using the computer equipment that T'Challa's people provided, she sent a message off to Hill. She got back with an affirmative within thirty minutes. If it took that long, Hill probably had to make, for her, an impassioned plea. More like she gave the guy no choice. It would take a day or two to set up, leaving Natasha with not much to do to keep herself busy until she was ready to sleep. Steve had gone to bed after escorting Bucky to the clinic while she touched base with Hill.

She was exhausted, yet restless. Walking the halls of the scientific research facility, Natasha eventually found herself back at the clinic. The nurse looked up from where she was monitoring several patients, including Bucky. On the screen, she could see him hooked up to a variety of machines that would alert the staff if anything unusual happened during the night.

Well, something unusual was about to happen. "I'd like to speak to with Mr. Barnes, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, Ms. Romanoff. He's in room three."

As Natasha turned the corner, she looked over her shoulder, seeing the nurse deliberately shut off the monitor with a smile. She tapped on the door of room three, and Bucky's sleepy voice called out, "Yeah?"

She stepped into the room, closed the door, and went to perch on the side of the bed, taking his hand. "How you feeling?"

He moved just the right shoulder. "Could be worse."

Her free hand brushed at the hairs on his forehead. "Wakanda's tech is first class. They'll get you back on your feet again."

"Seeing _you_ helps more than anything the doctors have done."

Bucky gazed at her with such affection Natasha could only smile. "Want me to stay until you fall asleep?"

"I want you to _stay_."

"That's why I'm here, _malenkii_." Without letting go if his hand, she climbed on the bed to lie on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips. She leaned down to caress his lips with hers. The fingers of her free hand slipped down to his waist, and under the edge of his sleeveless shirt.

Bucky released her hand, performing the same heat-inducing action on her, and soon, they were engaged in a dance older than time.

~~O~~

Not wanting to go to sleep just yet, Steve went down to the clinic. The nurse looked up when he cleared his throat. "May I help you, Captain Rogers?"

"Couldn't sleep. Is Mr. Barnes still awake?"

Her smile was apologetic, with a hint of something Steve couldn't define. "The doctor would prefer he not be disturbed."

"Of course. Good night."

Out in the hall, Steve puzzled over the odd expression on the nurse's face. As if something were going on she didn't want to tell him about. But why would she lie?

Bypassing the lifts, Steve took the stairs back up to the room he'd been assigned. He brushed his teeth, and lay down, staring up at the ceiling, one hand on his stomach, and the other over his head, tucked under the pillow.

~~O~~

Morning came, and Steve awoke with a start, curled up with his back against the wall, and hugging a pillow to his chest like he had when he was a kid. He'd dreamt of his mother, and how he hadn't even been able to hold her hand when she died of tuberculosis.

He went into the bathroom, did his business, washed his hands, and face, and dried off as he returned to the bedroom. His clothes, the sweat pants and t-shirt, were freshly laundered, and hanging in the closet, along with other clothing that had apparently been provided by their host. Not Steve's usual style though. He was more plaid and khaki, with a brown leather jacket. This was nowhere near that.

Steve chose a black long-sleeved lightweight sweater, matching black pants, and shoes. In the drawers he found undershirts, boxers, and socks. Everything was well-made, new, and in his size.

After changing, he tossed the scrubs on the bed, and went to the bathroom to comb his hair. From the day his first whisker grew in, he made it a point to shave every morning, no matter how bad he felt, or how tired. But today, he couldn't be bothered. His life, and those of his friends, was just so much crap now. And yes, he still thought of Tony, Vision, and Rhodey as friends. The boy from Queens too, or would if he ever got know him. He seemed like a good kid. Tony had only called him Underoos, and Spiderman. Until he found out his real name, Queens was as good a moniker as any.

Brushing the backs of his fingers down his stubbled cheek, Steve decided he liked the look. If it was good enough for Bucky…

Instead of the stairs, Steve took the lift down to the clinic. The nurse was nowhere in sight. Mentally shrugging, he made his way down the hall to Bucky's room, pushing the sleeves of the sweater up to elbows, exposing his lightly haired forearms.

He tapped on the door, but there was no answer. The monitor on the nurse's desk labeled with Bucky's name had still been dark. It was puzzling why the medical staff would do that. He knocked again, and the door creaked open no more than half an inch. Only the sounds of breathing and the machines reached his ears. One hand on the door, he pushed it open, whispering, "Buck? You awake? Buck?"

Pushing the curtain aside, Steve was greeted to another strange sight, though he shouldn't have been surprised. Not with what he now knew about his friend's relationship with Natasha.

The two of them were snuggled together under the covers, Bucky's arm around her, his hand resting on her ribs. She had her head on his shoulder, and one hand on his chest. Thankfully, he could see that they were both dressed.

To keep from waking them, he backed toward the door. His hand was on the doorknob when Natasha suddenly sat up, yawned, and stretched. "Mornin'." She shook Bucky, muttering sleepily, "Wake up, _malenkii_. Steve's here."

She gave him a pat on the stomach, slid off the bed, and padded into the bathroom, leaving the men alone. Steve shoved his hands into his pockets, and shook his head. "Don't think I'm ever going to get used to seeing the two of you," he nodded at the bed, "together."

"Try. Because it's not ending anytime soon, Stevie. Hopefully."

Natasha came out of the bathroom, and Bucky went in. She shifted her weight onto one foot. "I keep expecting probing questions, or a lecture on why we shouldn't be together."

Steve's shoulders went up and down. "You've pretty much answered any questions I might've had, and you'll never hear a lecture from me on your relationship. That's between the two of you. I will make a comment though."

Her eyes rolled, and she sighed loudly. "Here it comes."

"All I want to know is why you didn't tell me all of that sooner. Why keep it to yourself?"

"It's what I _do_ , Rogers. Secrets. They've kept me alive all this time." She crossed her arms, and leaned against the footboard. "Trouble is stopping."

Bucky came out, and that's when Steve noticed the wireless transmitters attached to his temples, upper chest, and right arm. He looked from one to the other. "Am I interrupting something?"

"I was just about to tell Steve that I should hear from my contact this morning on when the mission is a go. T'Challa gave me access to a computer. Let's get something to eat before we check email."

 **The Raft**

"Oh look. Home sweet home." The guards weren't especially rough, nor were they gentle as they urged Clint to walk faster. Didn't help. He still dragged his feet. One last shove in the middle of his back, and he stumbled into his cell. One of the guards released the wrist restraints, and stepped out. Clint flopped down on the bed, hands behind his head, one knee up, and the other leg hanging off the side, his attitude more chipper than the situation would suggest. "Thanks for the escort, fellas."

"Nice try, Houdini," the head guard sneered. "Secretary Ross told us all about you and your tricks, Barton."

"Yeah? What else did he tell you?"

The guard tucked his thumbs into his belt. "You and those other Avengers think you're right, but you're not."

"Just because some of us ended up here doesn't mean we're wrong. It just means someone else had a bigger stick. History," Clint waved a finger in the air for emphasis, "is written by the victors, _mes amies_."

The man rolled his eyes, and nodded to someone on the lower level. Clint's cell door closed with an electronic click. "Makes no difference to me. I get paid the same whether it's one prisoner or five."

Clint knew there was no way that he and his fellow prisoners could talk without being overheard. Still, he waited until they'd gone back to their stations to go to the far left wall, keeping his voice low. "Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"They've got Wanda in a straightjacket, and shock collar."

The other man huffed in frustration. "S***! They're treating her like some psycho."

"Yeah. They'll pay for that when we get out." Clint punched his left fist into his right palm, making a smacking noise.

"Please tell me you're not going to kill them."

"Not making promises I can't keep. It just depends on how badly they've hurt her."

From the far end, Sam called out, "Why'd you even _try_ , Clint? We're underwater, and literally so far from everything that even BFE is a distant memory."

Clint went back to his bed and sat down. "Recon. And because they expected an escape attempt. It would've looked suspicious if at least one of us hadn't. I was the logical choice."

"Why you?" Scott's voice came from the wall that separated their cells. He had to be as close to the cell door as he could get without touching it.

"I'm the most experienced, and the best trained for these kinds of situations."

Sam snickered. "Yet you're here with the rest of us. Sad."

That comment caused Clint's anger at Tony to surge again. Ruthlessly, he pushed it down. Nothing would be served by throwing antagonism at a target that was thousands of miles away. Still, when he did get out, hopefully sometime this century, Clint would get in his face regarding the fact that the billionaire had outted his best kept secret to the world: his family. If any one of them were hurt or suffered because of Tony…

Clint stopped that train of thought because he was getting angry again. And anger muddled his thinking. He needed to keep a clear head, to channel his pent up aggression in a positive way until Steve and Natasha could plan a jail break.

Exercise was out for now. He'd spent nearly thirty minutes running from the guards before they caught up with him near the hangar bay.

"Know what we need, Sam?" A long huff reached Clint, and he smiled. That meant Falcon was intrigued. Or bored.

"What?"

The longer he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. As an added bonus, it might cheer up Wanda even if she couldn't participate. "Entertainment. Something to break up the boredom. Scott?"

His neighbor's bed creaked as he sat down. "Yeah, fine. As long as it doesn't get anyone killed."

"Only metaphorically. It'll take some practice because we can't see each other, but it's doable. And it's not like they can stop us from entertaining ourselves."

 **Former SHIELD Helicarrier**

Cameron Klein took a fresh piece of gum from his shirt pocket, unwrapped it, and shoved it in his mouth. His neighbor held out his hand, and he gave him a piece as well. When the sugar was nearly gone, he blew a small bubble, and sucked it back in.

Movement to his far right caught his attention, as well as that of the rest of the operations crew. He looked up then back to his workstation when Commander Hill strode purposefully out of her office, taking up a position at the center consoles. Hands behind her back, she paced between the screens to the edge of the dais, and stopped. After a few minutes of what seemed like quiet contemplation, she walked the upper level around to the conference table, and back to the center where she announced, "I need a volunteer for a special project."

No one spoke, and Cameron wasn't surprised. Her standards were so exacting, she once made a tech rewrite his report five times. The only reason she didn't have him do it a sixth time was because Director Fury had stepped in.

Hill's light blue eyes darted around the room, and when they caught someone's gaze, that person hurriedly looked away. When those eyes reached him, Cameron could feel them boring into the top of his skull, and a moment later, a shadow fell over his station. "You're it. My office, Klein."

"Yes, ma'am." Cameron locked the workstation, straightened his tie, and stood. Taking a deep breath, he let it out as he walked to her office. He buzzed the chime, doing a quick hair and breath check. Would she be upset he was chewing gum, or would she not care? He was about to find out. The door slid open, and closed again once he was inside.

 **Thirty Minutes Later**

Hill's office door opened, and Cameron spoke over his shoulder as he exited, "I'll get started this afternoon, Commander."

Cameron resumed his station, typed in his password, and brought up his previous project, only needing an hour or so to finish it so he could start on the one Hill had given him. The tech sitting to his left tapped him on the shoulder. "Dude, why does she pick on you all the time? What'd you do to get on her bad side?"

"I-I, um, don't know." Intent on his work, at first Cameron didn't realize that Hill had come to stand next to him again.

"I'll need a preliminary report by tonight, Klein."

He glanced up and back to his keyboard. "You'll have it, Commander. 1900?"

"Make it 2000. I have a late meeting."

Hill moved away, and he let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding as she returned to her duty station. She turned in a circle, her jaws working a piece of gum. She blew a bubble, and turned back to the main monitor once again.

 **The Raft**

The guards stood in a semi-circle around the front of Wanda's cage. That's how she thought of it. Why else would she be in a straitjacket with this collar around her neck. When she awoke from the sedatives, she was lying on the bed, unable to move her arms. One of the guards had taken great joy in telling her what would happen if she tried to use her powers in any way. She was so scared her knees had given out. She slid down to the floor, and had stayed there for a long time.

The collar was so wide and bulky that it made sleeping difficult. To help calm her fears, Wanda closed her eyes, and breathed in the rhythm Natasha had taught her. It helped her focus not only her powers, but her thoughts and emotions as well. To not let them get the best of her.

The guards were all women. That meant it was time for her shower. With no frame of reference, she'd lost track of how many days she and the others had been here. Long enough to have had three respites from her cell. But was that three weeks at once a week, or ten days at twice a week? She could ask Scott. He sometimes sat on the floor close to the cell door, and talked to her, rambling on about his daughter, Cassie, Dr. Pym, and Hope, or whatever subject popped into his head.

Sam didn't say much. He screwed up when he told Tony where to find Steve, and his friend, Bucky, and knew it. The occasional inquiry as to her health, but not much more.

Clint would call to her from the far end. She felt sorry for him more than the others. He'd retired, and had only come on this mission to help her get away from Vision. He volunteered to bring Scott to Germany from San Francisco, and help Steve get to the quinjet.

Her feelings of affection for Vis were mixed up with the anger he'd caused by not allowing her to leave when Clint came for her. She hadn't been lying when she told him she couldn't control other people's fear, just her own. And for a while, she'd barely been able to do that.

Wanda rolled to a sitting position on the side of the bed, and stood, careful not to make any moves that could be construed as aggression, or an attempt to use her powers against them. She had yet to feel the force of the shock collar, and didn't really want to know what it felt like to have your head nearly explode. Perhaps it was something like when Pietro had died, like having your heart ripped from your body, yet you didn't die yourself.

She stepped out, and was immediately surrounded by the guards. The one in charge carried a remote held in one hand, her expression blank, as if she were empty of emotion. Wanda knew otherwise. She could sense the emotions of everyone on the Raft. Of them all, only Clint could block her, and often did when awake, but at night, when his guard was down, she saw it all. And what he mostly dreamt about was his family, and what he might have done differently that would've prevented their capture by German Special Forces.

As they passed Scott and Clint, Wanda gave them a smile to let them know she was okay. Not great. But sometimes okay was good enough. She chanced a quick ping against his shield, and from the slight widening of his eyes, she knew he felt it. When they were gone, he would tell the others.

The guards led her down the same long corridor she'd walked the three previous times, stopping at the same door. The room was specially shielded with an electromagnetic field to prevent her from influencing those around her. Not that she would. Not until she was certain there would be more benefits than disadvantages in doing so.

Standing just inside the room, Wanda waited for someone to unbuckle the straps in the back so she could take the jacket off. One of the guards did so, and she stood still until the door closed, and she heard the signal to move again. She would be in here for two hours. In that time, she was allowed to exercise, shower, change clothes, and eat a meal that wasn't fed to her through a straw.

Wanda stretched, working muscles stiff from disuse. She got into the Thai Chi start position that Clint had taught her, and moved gracefully through the complicated routine, returning to the start position, and saluting her unseen opponents.

The panel in the wall opened, and she took out the tray of food. All items she could eat with her fingers. It wasn't so bad, except for the time they'd given her a dish of vanilla ice cream.

Her shower came next. She rushed through it, and had just put on a clean uniform when she got the signal from the guards. Pulling on the straitjacket, she turned her back to the door, and crossed her arms. The straps were secured, and she was marched back the way they came.

Before they reached the detention level where she and her friends were kept, she looked over her shoulder. "Thank you."

The one with the remote snorted. "For what?"

"I have heard many stories of the inhumane treatment given to political prisoners. Here, I am well fed, allowed to shower, and change clothes, and am not locked in solitary confinement with nothing but four bare walls to keep me company.

"All I ask is that the warden not treat Clint harshly. He acted out of a misplaced sense of chivalry. From the day my brother lost his life, Clint has been like a father figure to me. A mentor. He believes it is his duty to protect me, even though it is _I_ who should be protecting _him_."

While she'd been speaking, she could feel the women's minds softening under her gentle probing. At her cell, she stepped inside, and turned to face them. And with a soft nudge, she moved the guard's finger off the button that activated the collar. "Tell me one thing."

"What?"

Wanda moved back from the door to show she had no ulterior motives-that they could tell. "The weather. What is it like here?"

The guard in charge, a tall slender woman with light brown hair, and olive skin, hesitated before speaking, and found no hidden booby traps in the question. "There's only been sunshine once since I arrived three months ago, and that lasted just a few hours."

The door shut, and the guards moved away. When they were gone, Wanda looked directly into the camera, and smiled.

 **TBC**

 _Mes amies_ = my friends

 _Ain't No Sunshine_ is a song written and performed by Bill Withers, released in June 1971.


	6. Sometimes Okay is Good Enough

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Sometimes Okay is Good Enough**

Joe Vega sat up straight in his chair at the odd sight on the monitor. " _Que_ _demonios_?" He slapped the man sitting next to him. "Artie. Look at this."

His partner, Art McDaniel, rolled his chair closer. "What the **** are they doing?"

"Are they even _allowed_ to do that?"

The men watched for a few minutes then Artie sat back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Should we stop them?"

"Dunno."

"Do we just ignore them? Pretend we can't see or hear?"

"Um, I think we should call the boss." Joe picked up the internal comm, and contacted the shift supervisor. "Vega, ma'am… Yes, I know it's your downtime, but it's the prisoners. They're… No, ma'am. They haven't escaped… No, the Raft isn't sinking… It's not on fire either… Uh, no. No medical emergencies… I see. Yes, ma'am."

Artie turned toward Joe. "What'd she say?"

Giving him a slow head shake, as if he weren't completely sure, Joe reached to turn the audio off. "She says not to bother her for stupid a$$ stuff. It's not like they're trying to escape, so I guess it's okay."

"Well, you've been here longer than me, Joe. The warden gets bent out of shape about it, I'm throwing _you_ under the bus."

~~O~~

Alpha Squad leader Peter Nacoma replayed Wanda's return to her cell over and over, puzzled by that smile. What did it mean? It looked innocent enough, but she was an enhanced being with telepathic powers, _and_ an Avenger. If she was manipulating their minds, would they even know? He froze the video on the moment she looked into the camera lens, shaking his head.

He sensed a presence behind him, unconcerned because it could only be one person, his immediate superior, Reveka Pitcura. "Reva, look at this, and tell me what you think."

Pitcura pulled a chair up next to Peter, and he replayed the scene for her. He paused it on that smile again, waiting for her to say something. She shifted in her seat, and he took that as a signal to play it again. When it finished its third run, Pitcura stopped it. "She's just trying to get inside your head, Pete. Ignore her."

"But…"

"Nothing." Pitcura shut off the recording, and stood. "Your squad has duties to perform. S&R needs more blood, and the doc needs an escort. Get to it." Peter opened his mouth to make a complaint, shutting it at seeing the palm of her hand. "Talk to the hand because the face ain't listenin'. This comes directly from upstairs."

"Why us?" He managed to keep the whine from his voice, though just barely.

"Because you're the best."

Getting his feet, Peter fallowed Pitcura into the lift. "It's just that every time we go down there, she gets angry. And I don't like it when she's angry. The tranqs wear off too fast."

His superior snorted. "She's not the Hulk, Peter. Banner is still MIA."

"Why doesn't the government just declare him presumed KIA? If he was alive, wouldn't someone have seen him, and reported it to the authorities, or posted it online?"

"Not so sure about that. There's talk that he was deliberately shot into space. If so, Banner could be dead by now because I doubt even the Hulk can breathe in a vacuum."

The lift doors opened, and the pair got out. "Our permanent guest never has visitors."

"This is a super-max holding facility. Our charges aren't _supposed_ to have visitors."

Resigned, Peter stopped outside Pitcura's quarters. "Reva, do you think she knows who or where she is, or what happened to her?"

"Not my job to care one way or the other. I just make sure everyone's taken care of according to the Geneva Convention." She stepped inside, and faced him again. "Now if you don't mind, I have some heavy-duty sleeping to get done before morning."

The door closed in Peter's face. He heaved a sigh, and made the trip to the armory. "Alpha squad, assemble in the armory, five minutes. We're up."

 _S***!_ This was the one part of his job Peter hated, not counting the weather, the isolation, and total lack of female companionship. The first two he could handle, but the women on board were either just putting in their time until reassignment, or interested in each other. And though he'd made friends with some of them, that's as far as it went. Zero chemistry. Same with the guys, if his door was inclined to swing that way, which it wasn't. Porn was out. He found it boring, and unrealistic. The only thing he got out of watching was seeing women naked, and most were too skinny. He liked his women a little more zaftig, as his writer brother would say, making hugging a more enjoyable event, even if that's all he got from her after dinner and a movie.

Peter's phone vibrated. He pulled it out, and accessed the texts. It contained only one word, a code he and his pal created when they were kids. They brought the game into play when SHIELD fell so that each would know the message was genuine and not forged by someone in HYDRA.

This particular word indicated danger a few levels below that of the alien invasion over New York, and requested an expedited response. _He'll just have to wait_. _Work comes first_.

While his mind had been wandering, Peter's feet had automatically carried him down to the armory where his squad was already suiting up. His 2IC handed him one of the heavy-duty tranq guns without commenting on the fact that he was the last to arrive when he was usually the first on-scene.

Peter went through the check routine by rote, finding the weapon in pristine condition, just as he'd left it. Hefting it in both hands, he headed for the door. "Doc's waiting. Move out."

 **Wakanda**

Steve found Bucky in the clinic's therapy room doing bicep curls, grunting with each lift. He returned the weights to the rack, and got down on the mat for one-handed push-ups. At the top of his twentieth, he stopped. "You just gonna stand there and watch?"

"Should you be exerting yourself like this?"

Bucky turned over to sit, his right hand massaged the left shoulder, pectorals, and underarm. "I need to be in shape for the mission, Steve. I've let so many people down. Can't let it go on."

His friend looked over at him when he sat across from him on the mat, hands led loosely between his raised knees. "You're injured, Buck. No one expects you to go on this mission."

"It's my fault they're in prison. I should be the one to get them out."

Steve shook his head. "You're assuming the doctor will allow you to leave."

Though he tried to hide it, Bucky was annoyed, and not a little frustrated. "And _you're_ assuming he can stop me. We both know how well that works out for everyone."

"There's no need to risk your life. We've got it covered. T'Challa's going, as well. We'll rendezvous with our contact to work out the remainder of the details, and put the plan into motion. Shouldn't be gone longer than seventy-two hours."

"I still have one good arm, Steve. I'm going."

Steve rolled to his feet, and Bucky stood with him, one hand on his left pectoral. He saw a flash of pain in his eyes before he looked away. "Suit yourself. I'll just have to bring in the big guns to convince you otherwise."

The pain gave way to a sort of desperation. "You _wouldn't_."

"I _would_." Grinning, Steve left the therapy room, turned the corner, and stopped to lean against the wall. "Five… four… three… two…"

"Steve! Wait!"

Bucky ran past his hiding place, backtracking when Steve said, "Here, Buck."

He leaned against the wall opposite Steve. "Your friends shouldn't have to suffer on my behalf. Even if they have to spend the rest of their lives in exile, it's better than federal prison."

"You don't know that they'll spend the rest of their lives in that place. Their sentences could be overturned, or the Accords could be thrown out as not in the public's best interests. Still, the battle at the airport did cause an international incident."

Nodding, Bucky looked at his feet. "Steve…"

"And don't say you're not worth the trouble, Bucky. It's a little late to rein it in now."

"What's done is done?" Bucky pushed his hand into his pocket, and started walking, Steve coming along side. "I need to be there, to thank them for all they've done, for their sacrifices. We barely know each other. Your friends did all this because _you_ asked them to."

Steve stopped Bucky with a hand on his back. "I didn't ask them to do anything. They volunteered. Clint retired, and I know he loves his wife and kids. But he's not really a retirement kind of guy. Wanda was just waiting for the whole Lagos thing to calm down. Inviting Scott was Sam's idea, and considering how things were for him back home, he was more than happy to get away for a while. And Sam, he committed himself to this almost from the day we met."

"And the blonde? How does _she_ fit into this?"

"Sharon? She's, uh, Peggy's niece."

His friend's eyes widened in surprise. "You kissed your dead girlfriend's _niece_? That's… that's…"

Shaking his head, Steve admitted, "It _was_ a little weird. In my mind, I kept seeing Peggy looking on with stern disapproval. I think it's safe to say it won't happen again." They started walking. "The point I was making before was they all volunteered even knowing that some of them might not make it, whether that meant death, or…"

"Prison. And Natasha?"

Grinning, Steve got on the lift, and Bucky joined him. "I wouldn't do this without her, Buck."

The lift doors opened on the residential level and Natasha was there waiting. "Hey, boys."

Steve eased past Natasha. "I'll leave you two alone. Remember what I said."

~~O~~

When Steve had gone, Natasha held out her hand, and Bucky took it. "This mission you're going on, Tasha…"

"You want to be there."

"Yeah."

They walked in silence for about three seconds. "No."

The silence stretched an additional two seconds until Bucky responded, "That's it? Just no?"

" _Da_. You're not in any shape for this mission." She put up a hand to stop him from speaking. "We don't know who has the code book, Bucky, or what they plan on doing with it. The likelihood of those on the Raft having the codes is slim, but that's a chance we can't take."

She was right, and saw is agreement. If he were allowed, he'd still go, no matter what the consequences to himself. She also knew he wouldn't want to put the rest of them in danger just to get his own way. "I just want to protect you."

He smiled, and draped his arm around her shoulders. "Change of subject?"

"Please."

"What happened to my backpack? They took it, my jacket, and cap when I was put in that holding cell. I saw them taking it away with Steve's shield, and Sam's wing pack. Think they still have it in Germany?"

They stopped in front of Natasha's assigned quarters. "I can make some inquiries." The scent of sweat, and antiseptic wafted past her nose. "No offense, but you reek."

"None taken." Natasha willingly let Bucky hold her close. He looked down at her with an affectionate smile. "I should get a shower."

"You should."

One hand trailed up his arm, and over his shoulder, the pads of her fingers grazing over the nape of neck. "Only have one arm. I need someone to wash my back. Know anyone interested in taking the job?"

"I do." Natasha pushed out of his arms, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into her room, slammed and locked the door. Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her in for a kiss as her hands pushed up under his shirt. They parted long enough to help each other undress then got under the hot spray together.

After their shower was done, Natasha put on her robe, and led him to the bed. Bucky lay on his stomach with the towel still wrapped around his hips so she could massage his back, shoulders and left side. "Mmm. That feels good."

"And here you are again, between my thighs."

"The envy of every other man on the planet."

She dug her thumbs into what remained of the trapezoid muscle on his left shoulder. "Not all of them. Some are gay."

"Gay?" Bucky's voice was muffled by the pillow, and blurred as he neared sleep. "You mean queer?"

Going over the list of slang from the forties she read recently, Natasha hadn't cared for some of the terms, but that wasn't relevant. "These days, homosexuality is accepted as a part of life. Though there are some segments of society and cultures that still find same-sex couples to be abhorrent."

Bucky grunted, lifted up, and turned his head to the other side. "That's stupid. You are what you are."

Not a moment later, he was asleep, spread out over her bed so there was no room for her to lie next to him. Shrugging to herself, Natasha took the extra pillow, and a sheet, kissed Bucky on the cheek, and curled up in the armchair in the corner.

 **Helicarrier**

 **Docked at a Secret Location**

Though he seldom used one, Cameron often clamped a pen between his teeth to help him concentrate while working in his room alone, and was out of gum. He promised Hill that his preliminary report for the special project would be ready by 2000, and it was nearly that now. If he hadn't taken time for dinner, a shower, and to change into pajamas, he would've been done an hour ago.

To tell the truth, Cameron had the report done before he went to the mess hall for his simple meal of a veggie sandwich, potato salad, and tea. While eating, he had a brainstorm. He rushed through his meal, and shower in order to incorporate it into the report, and the actual project. And that had given rise to yet another idea.

So intent on his work was he that he didn't hear the door to his quarters open and close. He also didn't jump when someone dragged her fingers softly across his shoulders as she came around to the side where he could see her.

Those who knew Cameron would call him incredibly intelligent, loyal, kind, yet more than a little on the nervous side. He was also capable of great feats of courage, such as when he stood up to Brock Rumlow during the HYDRA uprising. He'd refused to open the launch bay doors, bracing himself for the shot in the head he was certain would follow until Agent 13 stepped in.

His visitor insinuated herself into his lap, one arm around his shoulders, her fingers tilting his chin up. She took the pen, and dropped a kiss on his lips. Distracted by his idea, Cameron responded without taking his eyes off the screen.

"What are you _doing_?"

"Finishing the report you wanted."

Maria Hill toyed with the hairs on the nape of Cameron's neck, making him giggle. She got up, and stood beside him so she could see what he was doing. "You do know it was code for 'I'll see you at eight', right?"

Finally, he looked up at Maria, and smiled, snagging her around the waist. "Yes. I was inspired, so it's nearly done."

"The report?"

"The program. When I get to the rendezvous point…"

Her hand dropped around his neck, one finger lightly brushing up and down over the sensitive skin behind his ear. "We. I'm going with you."

That revelation got his attention faster than anything else she'd done since her arrival. Cameron pulled back onto his lap, holding her close with his arms around her waist. "That's great. Or maybe not. We won't be able to, you know, be together. Not if we want to maintain secrecy."

Maria must have sensed something in his words because she leaned back to look in his eyes. "You're not upset that I don't want anyone to know, are you?"

"No, of course not. If my co-workers found out, they'd think I was sleeping with you to get a promotion or something."

"Totally ignoring the fact that we all lost our jobs when SHIELD collapsed, and the crew had to be re-recruited from their new positions when we rescued the Sokovians. Meaning there will be no promotions for the foreseeable future."

Cameron noticed her clothing for the first time. "You're wearing pajamas."

Grinning, Maria stood, taking hold of his hands, and pulling him toward the bed, smiling seductively. "It's a sleepover, right?"

A surge of excitement made the breath catch in his throat. "You're staying the night this time?"

"I am. If you want me to."

Before she could tumble them onto the bed, Cameron tugged, and brought Maria into his arms again. "I do."

"Good. Now you take your pajamas off, and I'll take mine off. Deal?"

"Deal."

Instead of undressing themselves, Maria and Cameron slowly undressed each other. Then, he picked her up, and laid her gently on the bed, immediately joining her. Looking down into her face, he wondered how this beautiful woman, who could have her pick of men-and some women-had chosen him. He had no doubt that this thing between them would end one day. But he would enjoy it, they would enjoy each other, as long as it lasted, and Cameron would count himself one of the luckiest men in the world.

 **Wakanda**

"…thanks for looking into that for us, Sharon… You know I can't tell you… And be careful who you trust… Your boss, Everett Ross, for one… I'm not convinced what side he's really on with the Accords… Officially, he supports them, but it's his personal feelings I'm concerned about. Yes, I know we have to talk, but it won't be possible for a while… Bye, and thanks again."

Steve put the phone away, and looked out over the lush landscape of Wakanda rising up around the statue of the black panther, jaws open in a snarl, poised to attack. The image was powerful and awe-inspiring at the same time.

T'Challa had invited Natasha and he to stay at the royal palace not far from the science and research building where the doctors were tending to Bucky. For the moment, they both wanted to be close by just in case. The king had also extended an invitation to workout with him anytime he needed someone who would challenge him. Steve was leery of hurting the man, and something of what he was thinking had shown on his face because T'Challa had smiled, and said, "That won't be a problem, my friend."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Steve turned as an attractive young woman came up beside him. She wasn't tall, barely coming up to his chin, with black hair in braids that stopped at her earlobes, and sparkly earrings that looked like diamonds. She wore a dark purple turtleneck top that was sleeveless, black slacks, and comfortable, yet stylish shoes. But what drew him in, besides her smile, was her eyes. They were so dark they were almost black, making him feel, just for a moment, as if he could fall into them, and get lost.

"Yes, it is." Uncertain of Wakandan customs, he nodded a greeting in lieu of offering his hand. "Steve Rogers."

Her smiled widened, almost, but not quite a grin. "We've met, though you probably don't remember. I'm one of the doctors who treated you and your friends when you first arrived. I'm also the king's cousin. Kaya."

She held out her hand, and Steve took it. "You don't look like T'Challa."

Again that smile, as if she found him amusing and gauche at the same time. "My father is Wakandan, and my mother was from Sao Paulo, Brazil."

Realizing what he'd said, Steve made an attempt to explain. "Oh! I didn't… What I meant to say is you're prettier than he is."

She inclined her head at the compliment, and he was relieved that he hadn't insulted a member of the royal family. Kaya lifted her chin. "I was about to take a break. Would you care to join me for tea?"

Steve returned her smile. "I would, your highness."

Now she did laugh. "Kaya, please. It's true that I'm in line for the throne of Wakanda. However, many others would have to die for that to become a reality. As you say in America, I'm not holding my breath."

The lift doors opened, and Steve stood aside to let Kaya enter then joined her. "You've been to the US?"

"Yes. I studied medicine at John Hopkin's University." She watched him in that same way that Natasha did sometimes, without blinking, and it felt as if she were looking into his soul. "Where did you receive your education, Steven?"

"The Brooklyn Public Library. After my mother died, I couldn't afford to go to college so I went to the library every chance I got."

"As hobbies go, it's one of the best."

Intrigue by her tone, Steve asked, "What are your hobbies?"

One shoulder twitched as the lift came to a stop, and the doors opened. "The same. I enjoy learning."

"Yeah. Me too."

They went through the line, Steve picking up a couple of muffins to go with the tea. He carried their snack to a table facing the window, setting a muffin in front of Kaya, and keeping the other for himself. The pair spent over an hour in conversation, Kaya only realizing the time when she received a page.

She drank down the last of her tea, and stood. Steve did as well, holding his napkin in one hand. "Sorry to have kept you, Kaya."

Her smile told him she wasn't sorry at all. "Don't concern yourself, Steven. I seldom take more than twenty minutes to myself, and I enjoyed our conversation."

Suddenly shy, Steve smiled. "Me too. Well, thanks for spending your personal time with me."

"We should do it again. How about tomorrow at this same time?"

"I'll be here." Steve watched Kaya walk away, and as she turned the corner, she tossed a cheeky grin over her shoulder. He sat down, and picked up his tea, swirling that last mouthful in the bottom. "I must be out of my _mind_. What would a _princess_ want with a kid from Brooklyn?"

 **TBC**

 _Que_ _demonios_? = What the hell?


	7. Once in A Lullaby

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter has content that is not suitable for anyone under the age of 21. If you're under the age of 21 and read this anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Once in A Lullaby**

 **Joint Counter Terrorist Center**

 **Berlin, Germany**

 **Secure Lock-up**

Everett Ross stood in the secure lock-up staring at the empty box that had once held the Winter Soldier's backpack, jacket and cap. They'd been checked in at the same time as Falcon's wing pack, and Rogers' shield.

Where had the confiscated items gone, and who took them? According to the security cameras and the guards, no one had come or gone since before the blackout. Because the cameras were out during that time, anyone could've taken anything they wanted, and not gotten caught, _if_ they knew how to avoid security personnel. That made it an inside job. Or did it? With Barnes causing chaos, would anyone have noticed someone who didn't belong?

There was talk that Tony Stark now had possession of the shield. However, the arrogant sonofa**** refused to substantiate the claim. Every time Secretary Ross called him, Stark put him on hold, and never came back. That's the word on the streets anyway. Naturally, the secretary wouldn't admit that he was being put off by one of the richest men in the world.

He closed the box with an angry slap, rubbed the end of his nose, and left the secured area, saying to the guards, "No one goes in or out without my say-so. _No one_."

Everett stalked to the lifts, and hit the up button with more force than necessary, tapping his heel on the floor in a rapid rhythm. The doors finally opened. He got on, and chose a floor. Someone was going down for this, and it wouldn't be him.

 **The Raft**

The women left Wanda in her cell, and as they passed, Clint rolled off the bed, and came to lean on the bars as if he were at a bar, eyeing the "talent". He nodded, giving each one his most charming grin. "Ladies. Any chance of getting an all-female squad for _my_ next shower? Need someone to wash my back."

The squad leader, who'd only given the name Reese, hung back until the others had moved out of earshot. "You've got about as much chance of that as _I_ have of walkin' on water, Barton."

"C'mon, Reese," he wheedled. "Don't be like that. I thought we had some sort of connection goin' on here."

Reese snorted. "That was before I found out you have a wife and kids." Clint kept grinning, one eyebrow raised, waiting. Eventually, Reese gave in. "What d'you want this time? Extra chocolate pudding at dinner again? How 'bout a snifter of brandy for afters, or a bottle of Dom Pérignon to go with your Boeuf Bourguignon?"

He leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. "Personally, I prefer Australian wine with mine. Clarendon Hills 2004 Brookman Merlot, when I want to splurge. For every-day, I'll take either Craggy Range 2004 Sophia Gimblett Graves out of Hawk's Bay, or Banrock Station 2005 from South Eastern Australia."

From the blankness of her expression, Clint could tell he'd impressed Reese with his knowledge of wine, though she wasn't ready to forgive him for flirting with her while married.

"Your wife makes Boeuf Bourguignon often?"

He chuckled, and pushed off the wall. "We have three kids age ten and under. The two oldest are home-schooled, and the baby is teething. The fanciest meal either of us has time to make is Swedish meatballs, or Jambalaya, and that's usually in the crockpot." Clint had her, and he knew it. What was worse, _she_ knew it too. Maybe Laura was right when she said women found family men sexier than single men. He leaned fractionally closer, lowering his voice. "I'm not asking for myself, Reese. It's for Wanda. She's been depressed-not that I blame her. Been there myself. And I promise there are no booby traps. Not asking you to open the doors. Wasn't even thinking about it." He grinned again. "Please?"

" _Fine_. As long as I don't get into trouble."

Motioning her closer still, he laid out his idea, and when he was done, Reese grudgingly agreed. After all, they wouldn't be getting out of their cells for it. He only wanted her to play a certain song, and turn on the jumbo screen opposite their cells so they could see each other.

Reese's shift started at 2200. Once the previous shift had gone to their quarters, and were settled for the night, it would be all systems go.

 **2245 That Night**

Wanda shifted on her bed, trying to find a comfortable position in which to sleep. But like every other night since their arrival, it proved futile. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the meditating rhythm taught to her by Natasha, and reinforced by Clint during their Tai Chi sessions. Just as she was about to succumb, someone turned on music, and the large wall monitor came on.

Instead of the weather, or the surrounding area, which gave away nothing of their exact location, this time she saw herself and the men. Something odd was going on. They were standing in the middle of their cells, arms at their sides, and heads down.

As the intro began to play, the men snapped their fingers in time to the beat as their heads came up.

Clint sang the first line of the song, and Sam the second.

 _We've got sunshine on a cloudy day  
When it's cold outside we've got the month of May_

Scott seemed a bit nervous as he sang the next two lines, gaining confidence when no one laughed at his voice.

 _Well I guess you'd say  
What can make us feel this way?_

All three sang together on the next two lines.

 _Our girl (our girl, our girl)  
Talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl)_

All three men included choreography, and though it wasn't perfect, Wanda was warmed by their attempt to make her feel better.

 _We've got so much honey the bees envy us  
We've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees_

She stood, and walked to the bars, letting them see her smile, and know how grateful she was to have them as friends.

 _Well I guess you'd say  
What can make us feel this way?  
Our girl (our girl, our girl)  
Talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl o-oh)_

The men made a spin, one after the other, and Scott shrugged self-deprecatingly when he fell against the bars. He didn't let it dampen his spirit though, and Wanda found herself warming up to the new Avengers recruit, smiling just for him.

 _Hey-hey-hey  
Hey-hey-hey_

 _O-ooh_ _yeah_

Grinning, Wanda nodded in time to the music. Even tried a few dance steps.

 _We don't need no money,_

 _Fortune, or fame (o-oh hey-hey-hey)  
We've got all the riches baby _

_Three men can claim (oh yes I do)_

 _I guess you'd say  
What can make us feel this way?  
Our girl (our girl, our girl)  
Talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl)_

 _We've got sunshine on a cloudy day_

 _With our girl_

 _We've even got the month of May_

 _With our girl_

 _We've got sunshine on a cloudy day_

 _With our girl_

 _We've even got the month of May_

 _With our girl (our girl, our girl)_

 _Talkin' 'bout our girl (our girl o-oh)_

 _Our girl!_

The music faded out, and the cellmates and friends made a final spin to end the song. The guards in the pit, as Clint called their stations the next level down, stood and applauded. And because they could see each other now, they took a bow.

~~O~~

Once everything had calmed down, and the guards had gone back to their jobs, Clint sat on the floor of his cell leaning against the wall, poking a finger at the bars, and humming _My Girl_. He didn't sing often, mostly for the kids, and Laura. Occasionally, he could be convinced to join some of his pals at the Sweet Hereafter Bar and Grill for some karaoke, or to sit in with the band on a few songs. He gave up performing in front of audiences long before he met and married Laura. It sure wasn't something he wanted to go back to. Not really. He appreciated that it made Wanda feel better. If they could do something similar every couple of weeks, maybe being here wouldn't be so bad until Steve and Natasha could plan and execute a rescue. At this moment, they were probably out recruiting help. They just had to be patient, and wait for a signal.

Clint thought about Laura, and their appointment with the attorney a few weeks ago to have papers drawn up. Once they were signed by all interested parties, he would breathe easier.

After their battle with Ultron, he'd told Laura all about the twins, and how Pietro had lost his life saving Clint and a small boy. It had been her idea to name their son after Pietro, and Laura was constantly asking about Wanda. Her state of mind, if she had family and a home, if she was happy. In her opinion, living at the Avengers compound didn't fit her definition of anything. A few months after Ultron, Laura had put forth the idea of making Wanda, a girl without a family, a home, or a country, a part of their family, and Clint loved her even more for it.

But what would Wanda say? They'd had plenty of opportunities for him to ask her while they were locked in their cells with only each other and the guards for company, yet he hadn't broached the subject, not even as a "what if…" scenario.

He didn't want the others to know, not until it was a done deal, meaning Wanda had said yes. However, Clint could only think of one other way to approach her. Not a fan of telepathy, he hesitated to attempt contact. But then he realized, if he wanted her to trust him, and join his family, he had to show the same trust he was asking her to share.

Closing his eyes, Clint breathed deeply, relaxing his mind, and focusing his energy on projecting his thoughts. When he felt he was ready, he reached out.

~~O~~

Wanda's mind relaxed as she employed meditation to help her sleep, and in that place between sleep and awake, she heard Clint's "voice".

* _Wanda? Can you hear me?_ *

She sat up on the side of the bed, and at first the thought she was hallucinating, the she'd begun to go mad in this horrible place. ** _Clint?_ _How_ _are you contacting me?_ ** Sensing his sheepish smile, the one they didn't often see, she smiled herself.

* _It's not easy. Might not be able to keep it up long. I've had something on my mind for a while._ *

** _I've felt it, though I would never invade your privacy without good cause._ ** There was a long pause in which Wanda sensed that Clint was having a difficult time contacting her through the link. She got up, and went to the bars. "Clint? Are you okay?"

He slapped the cell door, and made a sound of pain and frustration. "Gah! My head's _pounding_."

"Then say it."

"I sort of wanted it to be just between us, but I guess that's not gonna happen." Clint sighed, though not in a way that said he was annoyed. If he had, she would've felt it. "Laura and I have been talking, and…"

"What?" Wanda sensed his hesitation, as if what he had to say would not be well received by her. "Whatever it is, I won't laugh."

"We talked it over with the kids, too, and it's unanimous. How would you like to become part of our family?" Stunned, at first, Wanda didn't respond, and Clint obviously believed she thought he was crazy. "Never mind. It was a ridiculous idea."

She rushed to reassure him, "No, it is not." That he cared enough to invite her to join his family filled her with emotions she'd forgotten she possessed. "I would be honored, Clint."

~~O~~

Yawning, Reese got up to walk the perimeter of the security level Barton called the pit to stay awake. Her partner was dozing at his station, and didn't move a muscle. After three complete circuits, Reese returned to her station, scooting close to the desk, only part of her attention on the screen until she saw something odd on Maximoff's.

The girl was sitting on the side of her bed, two small tears making tracks down her cheeks. Reese had tried to ignore the conversation between Maximoff and Barton; difficult to do being in the same room. Now the girl was crying. Reese snorted, and picked up her e-reader, shaking her head. "Mutants are _weird_."

 **Wakanda**

 **Natasha's Room**

 **After Midnight**

Ever since Natasha forbade him from going on their rescue mission, Bucky had been uneasy without knowing why. It wasn't that she would be far away where he wouldn't be able to protect her. She'd done a fantastic job of taking care of herself before they met in Bucharest. Knowing that Steve and T'Challa would be there was well made him feel a little better about staying behind.

The shower came on, and over the patter of the drops on the tile, he heard Natasha singing a lullaby, and though she sang it in English, he heard it in Russian. Or was it the other way around? Sometimes he couldn't tell. On occasion, Steve would look at him oddly, and he'd realize that, at some point in their conversation, he'd switched to Russian, and Steve hadn't understood a word he said.

 _Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high  
There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby_

 _Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue  
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true_

 _Someday I'll wish upon a star  
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me_

 _Where troubles melt like lemon drops  
Away above the chimney tops  
That's where you'll find me_

 _Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly  
Birds fly over the rainbow  
Why then, oh why can't I?_

 _If happy little bluebirds fly  
Beyond the rainbow  
Why, oh why, can't I?_

Closing his eyes, Bucky tried to bring to mind a picture of the younger Natasha he'd met at the Red Room so many years ago. Images flitted and flashed, finally settling on her face, that red hair tied back, and the look in her eyes that was at once vulnerable and guarded, as if she didn't fully trust him, or had once given him her trust, and had it thrown back in her face. She never mentioned such events the night they arrived in Wakanda, so where did these visions come from? And how to make them stop?

The bathroom light went out, and Natasha came out wearing a towel, and drying her hair with another. Bucky sat up on the side of the bed, and she came to stand between his knees. He took the towel, and rubbed her head. In response, she sighed, and her hands touched the tops of his thighs, lightly skimming up to his hips and back down to his knees over the material of his pants, pausing now and then to gently massage the muscles. His body reacted to her touch, and she glanced over her shoulder with a sly grin.

Abruptly, she turned to face him, taking the towel from him, and tossing it away. One hand dropped to his waist on the left, curling into the flesh, and the other slid slowly up the outside of the right to his shoulder. That same arm encircled Natasha's waist to pull her tightly against his chest.

The hand on his shoulder joined the other in framing his face as she leaned in to capture his lips with hers. Bucky held on as he lay back, bringing her with him onto the bed. They scooted around so his head was on the pillows. Natasha pulled her mouth from his, kissing all along his jaw, and down his throat. He stopped her before she'd gone too far, rolling until she was under him, telling her with a smile that he would be taking the lead.

Now between her thighs, Bucky moved back onto his knees and slowly pulled the corner of the towel loose. He spread the sides, baring her to his eyes, and wondering, not for the first time, how he could be so lucky to have a woman like her care for him.

He leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her forehead, hearing her sigh at the contact. He gave the same treatment to each cheek just in front of her ears then to the corners of her mouth, and lastly, her lips. She made a sound in her throat, begging him not to go when he separated their mouths instead of deepening the kiss.

Natasha rubbed her hands over his bare chest, seemingly fascinated by the dark hair. He captured one before it could wander, and kissed the palm, placing it and its mate beside her head on the pillow, and continuing his journey.

As always, she responded so beautifully to his worship of her slim body, telling him without words that what they had together was heartfelt, undeniable, and would last for all time. When the end approached, she refused to go there alone, insisting they take the ride together.

And afterward, they lay in each other's arms, skin flushed, and energy spent. Sleep beckoned, and Bucky answered the call, drifting into that sweet oblivion with Natasha tucked close to his side.

~~O~~

The dream started not long after Bucky had passed into sleep. He was back in Siberia, shackled to the chair. Someone stood in front of him holding the red book, speaking the words that sent a ribbon of dread through his mind.

" _Sil'noe zhelaniye… rzhavet… semnadtsat'…_ "

But this time, it wasn't Karpov.

"… _rassvet_ …"

"… _pech'_ …"

Nor was it the other man, the one who wanted the mission report from December 16, 1991, the day he'd taken the life of Howard and Maria Stark. He didn't want to live through that night again. Didn't want to remember any of it, but he did.

"… _devyat_ …"

"… _dobrokachestvennaya_ …"

He watched helplessly as strangers he passed on the street uttered the words that would send him on another mindless rampage. He tried to run, but they pursued him.

"… _vozvrashcheniye domoy_ …"

"… _odin_ …"

"… _gruzovoy avtomobil'_ …"

Bucky saw and heard himself speaking the words, " _Ya gotov otvechat'_ " as he killed random people who'd done nothing more than get in his way.

Then he went after Steve and Natasha.

A bright light seared through his brain, and when it cleared, Steve was dead on the floor, his skull crushed, and his chest caved in. He was kneeling over Natasha, again choking the life out of her as he had in Berlin. And like before, her eyes begged him to remember her.

But, his orders were clear: Sanction, and return to base.

Natasha gripped his hand, digging between his fingers and her neck, leaving deep scratches, and blood as she attempted to pry his grip from her throat. She struggled to breathe, gasped his name one last time, and was still, her eyes staring sightlessly out at the world. No, she was looking at him, accusingly, her grip loosening, hands falling away. He released her, and backed toward the door, horrified at his actions.

Natasha's body sat up, calling out to him in a voice that wavered in the cool night air. "Bucky-y-y… Come ba-a-ack… Why did you kill me? I thought you loved me-e-e-e…"

Bucky had just killed the woman he loved. There was no coming back from that. She reached out for him, her fingers looking more like the claws of some prehistoric creature as they scraped the front of his shirt, leaving scratches down his chest.

More frightened now than at the moment he fell from the train, and knew he was going to die, Bucky turned and ran into the night.

 **TBC**

 _My Girl_ was recorded by The Temptations December, 1964. It was written and produced by The Miracles members Smokey Robinson and Ronald White.

 _Over the Rainbow_ (often referred to as _Somewhere over the Rainbow_ ) is a ballad, with music by Harold Arlen and lyrics by E.Y. Harburg. It was written for the movie _The Wizard of Oz_ (1939), and was sung by Judy Garland, in her starring role as Dorothy Gale.

From Google Translate:

Longing - _sil'noe zhelaniye_

Rusted - _rzhavet_

Seventeen – _semnadtsat'_

Daybreak - _rassvet_

Furnace – _pech'_

Nine - _devyat_

Benign - _dobrokachestvennaya_

Homecoming - _vozvrashcheniye domoy_

One - _odin_

Freight Car - _gruzovoy avtomobil'_

Soldier = _Soldat_

Ready to comply = _Ya gotov otvechat'_


	8. Indiana Jones is My Hero

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Indiana Jones is My Hero**

 **Wakanda**

Steve signed his name to the bottom of the letter, and put it in the matching envelope. On the front, he wrote _Tony_ , and placed the envelope, and a burner cell phone into a Fed-Ex box. He sealed the end, and filled out the shipping label with the address of the Avengers compound. T'Challa had arranged for the box to be delivered from an address that would obscure its true origin. Not that Steve thought Tony had any delusions as to where Steve, Natasha and Bucky ended up after they left him at the base in Siberia.

When he began writing the letter, Steve wanted to explain why he'd kept the knowledge that Bucky had killed Tony's parents to himself. He hoped that by not telling him as soon as he found out, that Tony would get to know Bucky first, and come to see that his friend hadn't had a choice in the things he did. Bucky had been tortured, drugged, and numerous surgeries done to him over the course of decades, all without his consent or approval.

"Why so introspective?" Kaya asked as she slipped into the chair across from Steve. "You've been staring at that box since I came into the room."

He tilted his head to the side, deciding how much to tell her, going with the truth. "Writing a letter to a friend. At least he used to be a friend."

Kaya sipped her tea, watching him over the rim of her cup. She lowered the cup, replacing it in the saucer. "Would this be Anthony Stark?"

Chuckling humorlessly, Steve turned his coffee cup side to side in the saucer. "It's all over the news, though I doubt they'll get many of the details right. Tony will set them straight, if he says anything at all."

"The news agencies seldom get everything right, Steven. And when they find out differently, it's reported as a 'correction'." He jumped just a little when Kaya touched his hand. "Anytime you need someone to talk to, let me know. I'm a good listener."

Steve turned his hand over, and gently held her hand, taking note of the difference in their skin colors. Hers was several shades darker than his, reminding him of the milk chocolate candies his mother put in his stocking at Christmas. "Thank you."

Her nails were short, unpolished, and round on the ends. The pads of her fingers were callused from hard work, the skin warm and inviting. In his mind, he pictured them cuddling in front of a crackling fire on a cold New York winter evening, one of his mother's hand crocheted blankets over their laps. Without thinking, he rubbed the backs of her fingers with his thumb. She tugged, and he released her, embarrassed at the direction his thoughts had taken.

Kaya covered a yawn, chuckling when he grinned and raised an eyebrow at her. She pushed back from the table, and stood, sighing wearily. "It's well past the time I usually head home for the night. However, I wanted to see one of my patients through a minor crisis."

"You're leaving?" She nodded, and yawned again. "How far do you live? I could walk you home, if you like."

With a smile, she invited him to join her. "I have my car, though I would welcome the company on the walk to the parking lot." They got in the lift, and out on the main level. Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, slowing his stride to match Kaya's as they crossed the nearly empty striped asphalt. "I've been working for more than two weeks straight."

"Oh?"

"Yes. There was an accident at one of the mines. Five were killed, and eleven others were injured, though only two bad enough to need major surgery."

The smile he'd been wearing went away. "I'm sorry to hear that. Will they be alright?"

"They will. Three have been sent home already. The others will be released over the next few days." Kaya stopped beside a dark blue hybrid.

Steve leaned against the car parked in the next space. "Then you deserve a day off."

"And that day is tomorrow." Though he knew Kaya to be exhausted, she seemed reluctant to leave.

The look on her face encouraged him to say what was on his mind. "Any plans?"

Until then, she had been watching him, head tilted to the side, as if she were contemplating a minor medical diagnosis. But most of Steve's physical wounds had healed. It was the emotional wounds that plagued him day and night.

Slowly, like the sun coming up in the morning, Kaya's smile widened, showing her perfect white teeth. "I was thinking of extending an invitation for a picnic in the park near the Ethiopian boarder to a new friend who has yet to experience the real Wakanda."

Pretending he didn't know she meant him, Steve asked, "Anyone I know?"

She took a step closer, tipping her head back to keep eye contact. "Yes."

In the stillness of the humid night, the atmosphere that surrounded the two of them changed, taking on a romantic air. Kaya reached up to brush her fingers over the nearly a week's worth of beard growth on his cheek. He pulled his hands from his pockets, the left one coming up to wrap around her palm, and hold it against his chest. Kaya raised up on her toes as he leaned down, their mouths gentle on this first meeting.

Her lips were full, and moist, and in that soft, almost chaste kiss, he sensed she wanted much more than simple friendship. And the truth was he did as well.

His right hand had just touched the side of her waist when they heard the crash of breaking glass. They looked into the sky, and saw a body falling toward the ground. The long hair and missing left arm could only be Bucky. His friend landed on one knee, supporting himself with the right hand amidst the pile of shattered glass, his chest expanding and contracting in a rapid rhythm.

Steve ran toward Bucky, and Kaya followed. He put his hand out to stay back as Bucky slowly got to his feet. His body language was similar to the day Zemo had sent him on the rampage through the UN building in Berlin. Right hand clenched, and his breath rasping in and out.

"Buck? You okay?" Bucky turned his head sharply, and the expression on his face wasn't that of the mindless assassin. The last time Steve had seen that look was the day he'd been unable to save his friend from falling into a ravine in Europe. Bucky was scared to death.

A piece of glass fell, shattering next to Bucky, startling him. Steve looked up, and standing in the opening where the window had been, he saw Natasha. She was dressed in pajamas, and holding a towel to her neck.

Taking a tentative step forward, Steve extended his hand. Keeping his voice calm, and level, he took another step. "Come with me, Bucky."

As he got closer, Steve saw a number of small cuts on Bucky's arm, chest, and face. "Let's go inside, and let the doctors treat your injuries."

His friend acted as if he didn't hear him, jumping like a frightened rabbit when Steve touched his shoulder. Bucky recoiled from the touch, shouted an anguished and terrified "No!", turned, and ran into the jungle surrounding the research building on two sides.

Steve gave chase, quickly losing sight of Bucky in the darkness. Bucky had stayed under the radar for almost two years. If he didn't want to be found again, he wouldn't be. He returned to the parking lot, looking up to where Natasha had been joined by doctors, nurses, and even a few gawking patients. She backed up, and disappeared.

Kaya touched the back of his hand, and he looked down at her face illuminated by the parking lot's lights. "The best thing to do is try to get some rest tonight, Steven. Tomorrow, we'll form search parties, and go looking for him."

"What about wild animals?"

"Those that live this close to the city are used to human encroachment into their territory, and, for the most part, take steps to avoid them." She slipped her hand into his, and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Your friend is resourceful. He will be fine until morning." With a tug, she drew him toward the building's entrance. "We should speak to Ms. Romanoff. She will tell us what frightened Mr. Barnes so badly that he would run away from his friends, and this place of safety."

Knowing she was right, Steve allowed Kaya to lead him inside, and up to the floor where he and Natasha were staying. She met them at the lift, still holding the towel to her neck, giving Kaya a contemplative glance, and taking note of their linked hands. She pulled the towel away, and Steve saw blood. Not a lot, but enough. "What happened? Did Bucky…"

Natasha's eyes stayed wide open, glistening with an emotion he couldn't define. "Did this to myself. He was having a nightmare. I tried to wake him and…"

Kaya released Steve's hand. "Come. I'll clean and treat those wounds." She led Natasha into the clinic, and Steve followed. The doctor pointed to an exam table, and Natasha hopped up on it. Kaya washed and dried her hands, and put on gloves. Using gauze, and antiseptic, she removed the blood, leaving only two small scratches. "It's not nearly as bad as it looked. Won't even scar."

Steve leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. "What was the nightmare about?"

"He talks in his sleep sometimes, mostly in Russian, about his experiences. The Winter Soldier is activated when someone speaks a series of words." She hissed in pain while Kaya continued to dab at the scratches.

"Wanting to be alone is understandable. He's afraid he'll hear the words when he's out in public."

She shook her head. "He's conditioned to respond when the words are spoken in Russian, and only in a particular order. Otherwise, there's too great a risk for him to be activated by accident."

"And you know what these words are, Ms. Romanoff?" Kaya asked.

"Natasha, please. And yes, I do." From the blank expression on her face, Steve could tell Natasha wasn't going to tell them what the trigger words were, and he didn't blame her. If someone figured out the correct order, there was no telling what sort of havoc they could rain, if Berlin were just a sample.

Kaya applied anti-biotic cream to the scratches, and covered them with small bandages. The doctor gathered up the bloody towel and gauze, covered the antiseptic, and cream tube, and carried it all to a nurse. The woman nodded, and took it all away. Kaya removed the gloves, rolled them together, tossed them in a trash bin, and washed her hands once more. "And your injury? How did that happen?"

Natasha's hand went to her neck. "When I tried to wake him, he grabbed me by the throat. I couldn't breathe." She mimed prying invisible fingers loose. "Then suddenly, he let go, turned, and ran. By the time I reached the hallway, he'd thrown himself through the window."

"Security will have been alerted by now. As I told Steven, we won't be able to find him in the dark. We'll gather search parties at first light."

Startled, Steve said, "We?"

"I'll join the search. If he's injured, I'll be able to treat him immediately." Again, she covered a yawn, smiling sheepishly at the end. "Under the circumstances, I'll stay here at the clinic tonight. Would you care to walk me, Steven?"

"Of course." He glared at Natasha's smirk, and followed Kaya to the lifts. She'd already called for a car, the ding announcing its arrival. They got on, and just before the door closed, Steve took Kaya's hand again.

~~O~~

As he fled into the jungle, Bucky heard Steve calling his name. But that couldn't be. He'd killed Steve, just before he killed Natasha. All the people had to do was say the words, and the unthinkable had become reality again. He had caused the death of the two people who mattered most in this world.

He stopped to catch his breath, leaning his back against a tree, and soon, Steve's voice stopped calling out for Bucky to join him in death as atonement for his sins.

Bucky only admitted to three fears in his life. Dying, causing the death of a loved one, and…

He held his breath, turning his head side to side, trying to locate the gentle rustling that hadn't been caused by the breeze. It seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. Then, it stopped, and he let the air out of his lungs in a whoosh. He'd only taken a single step to continue his quest for a hiding place when something fell out of the tree, and landed on his left shoulder. Bucky looked down, and a snake was staring back at him, its forked tongue flicking out. Shuddering in revulsion, he flung it away, and ran for his life because _that_ was his third biggest fear: snakes.

One had gotten loose when he was six, and visiting the Bronx zoo with his family. Holding his mother's hand, he'd felt something touch his foot, and looked down to see a snake slithering over the tops of his shoes. That the creature was less than four feet long and non-venomous made no difference to a frightened child. His screams had drawn the attention of the staff who had been discretely looking for their missing resident. They took the offender into custody, apologized profusely to his parents, and gave them free passes for a year that went unused because he'd refused to go back.

Up ahead, Bucky saw a stream. He stopped beside it, wondering if the water was safe to drink. Going down on his knees, he scooped water in his hand, and brought it to his nose. It smelled clean. Tentatively, he took a sip. It tasted good. Clean, and fresh. He drank his fill, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

To the right, the stream made a turn, seemingly vanishing into the trees. To the left, he heard splashing. Curious, he followed the flowing water until he came to an enormous cave opening.

Mossy green algae covered the rocks, walls, ceiling, nearly every surface. He picked his way carefully over the rocky shore until he came to a basin filled with water flowing through and out the other side of a cave. He sat down on a stack of rocks to remove his socks and shoes, and rolled up his pants legs.

Slowly, one foot at a time, Bucky made his way across to the other side of the pool. As he stepped through the opening, he looked up, his mouth dropping open at the sight.

The moon was just over half full, its light reflecting off the rippling water along with a multitude of stars. Pushing one foot ahead of the other, his toes found the edge of a drop-off. He couldn't tell how deep it was, and decided not to chance it.

Moving around to the side, he came to a sort of shelf area that was dry in the back where the ceiling curved down. The rock had been worn away by millennia of water relentlessly flowing over them, leaving uneven steps. The drip, drip of water, like the leaky faucet in the kitchen when he was growing up provided familiarity in this strange and awe-inspiring place.

Suddenly weary, Bucky took off his shirt and pants, folding them to use as a pillow. Examining his chest, he was surprised to see the t-shirt was intact, and his skin free of scratches. Had it all been just a vivid and incredibly intense nightmare?

He lay down on his back, closed his eyes, and let his mind go back to the times his mother sang to him when he couldn't fall asleep. Her family had emigrated from Killarney County Kerry, Ireland two years before his mother was born, and the songs she sang reflected those origins. His favorite had been _Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral_.

If he listened hard enough, he could hear her sweet voice again…

 _Over in Killarney, many years ago,  
My mother sang a song to me in tones so soft and low  
Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way,  
And I'd give the world if I could hear that song of hers today_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,  
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,  
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,  
Hush now, don't you cry  
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,  
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,  
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,  
That's an Irish lullaby_

By the time the last note faded, Bucky was asleep.

 **Former SHIELD Helicarrier**

 **At a Secret Location**

Cameron jabbed a fork into his salad and brought it to his mouth, chewing without taking his eyes from the tablet under his left hand. The device was non-networked with the boat's systems, and contained the program he would use for the upcoming mission that he and Hill would be going on together. He made some minor changes to one section, saved it, and continued scrolling, his eyes tracking back and forth.

His concentration skidded to a halt when his co-worker, Ben Pritchard, slapped his tray on the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. He was fit, taller than Cameron, dark-haired, and dark skinned, with a voice that sounded like he needed to gargle. The man had played football in high school and college, and never tired of talking about his glory days. Likewise, he enjoyed making comments, and observations about his co-workers based on little to no factual information. On the job, his work was first rate. It was the way he conducted himself outside of that purview that annoyed, and sometimes angered Cameron.

Ben used his fork to cut up the slab of meatloaf swimming in gravy, dragged it through the mashed potatoes, and shoved it in his mouth. Chewing and talking at the same time, he used the fork to punctuate his words.

"You know, I misjudged Hill. She's not the cold fish, ice queen I thought she was."

The mention of the woman Cameron was sleeping with got his attention. Taking great pains to appear disinterested, he took a drink of his unsweetened tea before responding with a non-committal, "Oh?"

"Yeah." Ben shoveled more food in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "Stopped at the Java Junction over on Grand and Heritage. You know the one. Next to the video game store? Don't usually go there, but wasn't coming from home, if you know what I mean. Well, I'm in the drive-thru waiting at the window for my espresso double shot when who do I see sitting at a table with some guy, lookin' all cozy like? Hill. It was weird because _I_ thought she played for the other team."

His appetite gone, Cameron dropped the fork in the bowl, wadded up his napkin, scooped up the tablet, and stood. "I wouldn't mention it to anyone else, Ben. Hill wouldn't appreciate having her private life part of the rumor mill."

Around another mouthful of food, Ben said, "Geez, Klein, why are you suddenly a member of her fan club?"

"I'm not. I just don't think we should be talking about the commander behind her back. Gotta finish this special project." Cameron beat a retreat before Ben could delve further into his reasoning. He kept his expression neutral until he was in his quarters. Leaning against the door, he exhaled loudly. "Dammit. I knew this would happen. Just not so soon."

The tablet beeped, reminding him he was due back in operations. He thought about calling out, but that would only delay the inevitable. If she was cheating on him, he and Hill couldn't continue seeing each other. He would never do that to a woman, and the least he expected was that the woman be faithful as well.

Cameron looked longingly at the musical instrument in the corner. Playing always relaxed him, and in his current mood, he could use it. But there wasn't time. He powered up the computer on his desk and submitted a request to his immediate supervisor for two days off. It would take at least that long to make the arrangements for the trip. The approval came back within seconds.

~~O~~

In operations, Cameron put on his headset, powered up his station, and got to work. Several times, Hill attempted to get his attention, but he ignored her. She turned control over to Kripke, and left the area. A few minutes later, he received a text on his personal phone.

 _Tonight?_

Sighing, he tapped out, _Can't. Going out of town._

Before he could respond further, Kripke called out, "Text your girlfriend on your own time, Klein. When you're here, I need you _here_."

Cameron turned the phone off, shoved it into his back pocket, and didn't think about it again until after his shift was over.

Hours later, he returned to his quarters intending to pack and get away for those two days, using the time to clear his head. He pulled off his tie, and tossed it in a drawer, and unbuttoned his shirt as he toed off his shoes. Going to the closet, he took out a duffle bag, shoved his off-duty clothes into it, and zipped it closed. From the bottom of the closet, he grabbed a pair of sneakers, tossing them on the floor next to the bed.

The keys to his car were on the desk, and as he turned to get them, he saw someone lying on the bed. The figure scooted off the side, and walked into the light coming from the lamp on the wall next to the bed.

"Maria. What are you doing here?"

She smiled, and lightly rubbed a hand up the outside of his bicep to his shoulder, the other one doing the same on the other side. "Thought we could have a little fun before you go."

The look on her face when he removed her hands, and stepped back was a little frightening. As if she couldn't believe he was turning her down. Probably because he never had. But the vision that Ben had painted of her with another man wouldn't be vanquished.

"What's wrong?"

He turned away, not able to look at her or he'd lose his nerve. "Someone told me they saw you with another guy." There was no immediate response beyond a sharp inhale. "If you tell me he's just a friend, or a cousin, or a CI, I'll believe you."

"Cam…"

Hill touched his shoulder, and Cameron moved out of reach, turning to face her again. "So it's true."

She clamped her lips together, and wouldn't meet his eyes, telling him all he needed to know. "I'm sorry, Maria. I can't do this." He took a deep breath, let it out, and just forged ahead. "I don't think we should see each other anymore."

 **TBC**

 _Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral_ ( _That's an Irish Lullaby_ ) is a classic Irish-American song originally written in 1913 by composer James Royce Shannon (1881–1946) for the Tin Pan Alley musical _Shameen Dhu_.


	9. If Only Life Had a Reset Button

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **If Only Life Had a Reset Button**

 **Helicarrier**

 **Docked at a Secret Location**

Cameron held his breath to see what Hill would do, almost jumping out of his skin when she held out a small package instead of decking him. "What's this?"

"Your birthday's next week. I wanted you to have it now." He took the box wrapped in blue paper with musical notes and instruments all over, tied with a thin gold ribbon, staring at it as if it would bite him. "Go ahead. Open it."

Tugging on the end of the ribbon untied it. He set it aside, and removed the paper. Inside was a box of top of the line reeds for his alto saxophone. "Maria…"

"Was hoping you'd use them to play for me, but I guess that's not going to happen." She went to the door, glancing over her shoulder. "Sorry it had to end this way. I'm still going on the mission."

He tapped the box against his palm, and laid it on the dresser. "Then I'll see you in two days. Anything special I should pack, considering the real reason we're going?"

"Whatever you usually take. Don't want them to get suspicious right off the bat."

Shrugging one shoulder, Cameron conceded the point. "Guess I'm not cut out for undercover work."

"You'll do fine. I'll give you pointers along the way, if you need them."

The tone of her voice was such that Cameron couldn't let her go like this. He swept her into a hug. "I'll miss you, Maria."

"Me too."

Hill clung to him briefly, and if she'd have been most women, there'd be a few tears. But she wasn't the type to cry. That's why he was surprised to see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She wiped the corners of her eyes, sniffed, and was gone.

After changing into jeans and a t-shirt with a button front plaid shirt open over it, Cameron sat on the side of the bed to put on his sneakers, feeling like the biggest heel in the world.

 **Wakanda**

 **Mid-Morning**

The sun shone through the opening over the grotto, warming the water while a gentle breeze rippled the crystal clear surface. In a far corner of the driest part of the cave-like area, a man slept, but he wasn't alone. He made noises, snuffling, a groan or two, followed by a sigh of contentment.

Bucky's brain worked through its morning reboot, and with that awareness, he felt warmth against his stomach and back. He smiled, and muttered sleepily, "Mm. Mornin', Tasha. Ready to get up?"

There was no verbal response. Only a groan as the other adjusted position.

"You're right, babe. We should stay in bed a while longer." His fingers curled into the ribs, feeling the odd material of her pajamas. "What're you _wearing_? It's too warm for fur."

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and yawned. Blinking in the soft morning light, Bucky came awake with the speed of a freight train with a busy schedule to keep. Clamping his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming, he felt panic bubbling inside him, threatening to explode.

Sometime during the night, he'd been joined in his makeshift bed by two panthers. One had curled up in front of his stomach, head on its paws, looking like a giant, solid black house cat. The other had laid its head and paws on his ribs. Those paws flexed, and Bucky felt the sharp poke of claws dig into his side.

They looked like big cats, though more dangerous. He judged them to weigh around one-twenty-five each, at least. Their heads were nearly as large as his, with paws the same size as his hand. The one in front of him yawned, stretched, and rolled partially onto its back, exposing its belly. The thing that surprised him most is that both were purring.

~~O~~

Steve tapped his headset. "Anything, Nat?"

" _Footprints that lead west, but that's it._ "

He swore mentally, careful not to verbalize it or he'd never hear the end from Natasha. Stopping under a tree to check in with the other teams, Steve leaned back when a snake hung down in front of him, the tail end still wrapped around a branch. It was as big around as his wrist, and his best guess was that it was about six feet long. It hung there, watching him with black eyes, the forked tongue flicking out. He knew from reading about the flora and fauna of Wakanda that this particular species wasn't venomous. Steve snorted. "Maybe _you_ can tell me where Bucky went."

The snake didn't respond except to look over its "shoulder", and back to Steve. It went back up into the tree, and Steve continued searching. Calling out wouldn't do any good because that would give Bucky their locations so he could hide, if he wanted to.

As he passed under a group of trees growing close together, he glanced up, seeing several different jungle animals playing in the branches, along with more snakes.

An obviously male scream shattered the calm of the jungle, sending birds, rodents, reptiles, and primates scattering in all directions. This was followed by running footsteps, and crashing through the thick foliage. Steve headed in that direction, jumping back out of the way when Bucky ran by wearing only a t-shirt and boxers, closely followed by two black panthers.

Steve rushed after the trio while speaking into his headset. "Attention all teams! I've found him. Repeat, I've found him. I'll handle him myself. Send the doctor, and one guard armed with tranquilizers. Two panthers have been spotted in pursuit."

Moments later, Natasha joined him. He pointed to the tree where Bucky had climbed as high as he could. Keeping his voice calm, Steve called out, "Buck? You okay?"

" _I'm being chased by wild animals, a$$hole! No! I'm_ _not_ _okay!_ "

Kaya joined them, the medical kit worn as a backpack. To Steve's surprise, she grinned, and moved in the direction of Bucky's voice, calling out, "They will not hurt you, Mr. Barnes."

" _B-but they have teeth, a-a-and claws, and…_ "

 _R-r-r-rah-rr!_

The other jungle creatures were further disturbed by the dual roars of the panthers. Throwing caution to the wind, Steve ran toward Bucky's hideaway, stopping when he spotted the huge animals staring up into a tree. Steve, Natasha, and Kaya looked up as well. The guard joined them, staying back out of the way. Bucky was sitting on a branch, his one good arm wrapped around the trunk, both knees drawn up to his chest.

Natasha held out her arms, the Widow's Bites glowing with power. She shut them down when Kaya touched her on the shoulder. "Do not trouble yourself, Natasha. I've got this."

She divested herself of the backpack, setting it against the trunk of a smaller tree. Then, step by step, she approached the panthers, speaking softly in Wakandan. To their surprise, the panthers came running to Kaya. She crouched down so they could rub their heads against her hands. Getting to her feet, Kaya gave what sounded like an order, and the big cats immediately lay down in the lush grass, their tails swishing side to side. "You can come down now, Mr. Barnes," Kaya called out. "They won't hurt you."

" _You're sure?_ "

The doctor smiled. "I'm sure."

The tree shook as Bucky started making his way down. Giving the panthers a wide berth, Steve and Natasha went to stand under the tree, looking up to watch Bucky cautiously make his way from branch to branch. He saw Natasha, and a relieved smile crossed his features.

The smile turned to terror when several snakes came to see what the commotion was. Bucky screamed, and backed away, reaching for a new handhold. What he thought was a branch turned out to be a larger snake. He screamed again, and dropped the snake, lost his balance, and fell the remaining twenty feet to the ground, landing in the dirt with a thump, and a groan.

Before the humans could move to help him up, the panthers were on him, licking his face, and pawing at him with claws sheathed. Bucky covered his head, calling out, "A-a-ah!"

Kaya's stern voice interrupted the noise. "Akwete! Doto! Come here this instant!" The panthers each gave Bucky one more head-boop, and came to sit in front of Kaya. "Naughty, naughty. What have you been told about teasing strangers?"

She held out her hands, and the pair allowed her scratch their heads and necks, startling Steve when he heard a dual rumble coming from their throats. Kaya looked up, and seeing the expressions of the faces of the three Americans, she shook her head, and smiled. "They are a domesticated brother and sister that were taken in by my cousin Kwame when their mother was killed. We took turns bottle feeding them until they were old enough to eat on their own. As they got older, they slept with us at night, and ate meals in the dining room with the family."

Steve helped Bucky stand, and now that he looked closer at the animals, he could see one was slightly bigger than the other. "Which is which?"

"Akwete is the male," she touched the larger cat on the neck, "and Doto, the female. They love being the center of attention."

Natasha approached them with her hand out. Akwete then Doto ignored her hand, and rubbed their heads against hers, knocking her onto her backside.

With his hands holding onto Bucky, Steve felt tension stiffen his body as he readied himself to go to her defense. But he needn't have worried. Not until they saw him again.

The two animals bounded over to Bucky, pawing at the air, and making _r-r-r-r-r_ sounds in their throats. Tentatively, he reached out to touch Doto's head. Her eyes closed, and she seemed to smile in contentment at the feel of his fingers digging into her fur. A big paw waved for his attention, and Bucky dutifully did the same for Akwete.

Kaya whistled in a specific cadence, and the panthers ran to her side. She spoke a few words, and they turned to go into the jungle, stopping at the edge of the small clearing to look back over their shoulders. Then, they were gone.

She picked up her medical supplies, and joined the others. "You don't appear to be injured, Mr. Barnes. When we return to the clinic, I'll examine you, and treat any injuries you've sustained."

Bucky dug his heels in, shaking his head. "No. I can't go back."

Natasha took hold of his hand, and Steve touched his shoulder. "Buck? You okay?"

"I-I don't think so."

A small hand touched Bucky on the hand. "You didn't hurt me. It was just a dream, _malenkii_. Please come with us to the clinic."

He jerked free, and moved away from them. "What if it happens again? I could kill someone, Steve. I don't want to kill _anyone_."

Following, Kaya held out her hand. "Please don't go, Mr. Barnes. We'll figure it out."

Bucky looked down at the ground, slanting his eyes over to Natasha when she took his hand again. "I just-I can't _fix_ myself."

"That's why you have us." Natasha wrapped her arms around his chest, and hugged him tight. Reluctantly, Bucky held her close, resting his cheek against her temple. "If only life had a reset button."

Natasha pulled out of his embrace, and led Bucky back toward the clinic, with Steve and Kaya behind them. He stopped at the edge of the parking lot at seeing all the people milling around. Someone saw them, and pointed. Natasha tugged him forward. "Ignore them, Bucky."

"But…"

He glanced a Kaya when she said, "They're not gawking at the freak, Mr. Barnes. These people were genuinely concerned for your safety. They spent hours looking for you. See?"

A few at a time, the people nodded at Bucky, some smiled, and went back to their lives. Steve watched one emotion after the other flitting over Bucky's features. Then, he nodded once, and continued into the clinic.

Now that his best friend had been found, Steve stood next to Kaya in the lift, wanting to hold her hand, but didn't to prevent teasing by Natasha and Bucky. He sneaked a quick look at her from the side, only to see her doing the same. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he inhaled sharply as a fingertip lightly grazed the back of his hand. It tickled, and Steve clamped his lips together to keep from making a sound.

The lift doors opened, and Natasha glanced over her shoulder at them before getting out with Bucky. Steve started forward, stopped by Kaya's hand on his arm creating an enticing warmth even through the sleeve of his dark grey t-shirt.

"I'm sorry we won't have time for our picnic, Kaya."

"Don't be. It was for a good cause. You have your friend back, and he doesn't appear to be physically injured. Emotionally is another story. He will need much time to come to terms with all that has happened."

The lift doors slid closed, and neither of them cared as they faced each other in the small space. "We're leaving in twenty-four hours. Not sure when we'll be back. We'll have dinner then."

Kaya's other hand came up to mirror the other. Slowly, she moved them over his shoulders to the sides of his neck, her fingers toying with the longer hairs that touched his collar. He now had to add gel to his hair to keep the front out of his eyes. In all his life, he'd never let it get longer than the middle of his ear, yet now, he felt it, and the beard, suited him as a fugitive from the Accords.

Those strong, yet delicate hands framed his face, the thumbs stroking the area in front of his ears. "My last name is Hawa."

Feeling greatly daring, Steve wrapped his big hands around the sides of her narrow waist, and pulled her to him, sensing there was something she wanted to say, and it wasn't about her name. "It's beautiful. What does it mean?"

Her dark eyes dashed over his features, lingering on his lips before locking with his. A smile flowed over her features. "Longing." Her thumb traced his lips. "No one has ever made me crave his touch as you have in just these last few days, Steven."

His name was lost as Steve devoured her mouth and found her as hungry for him as he was for her. Fire and passion met him, though tempered by the fact that they weren't as alone as it seemed. Her tongue toyed with the crease of his lips, tasting him, found his tongue twining around hers. He'd kissed a few women in his long life, but only one other had ever offered to let him taste her passion, and eagerness for something that had always seemed just out of his reach.

They separated at the sound of voices through the lift doors. With quick movements, they straightened their clothing. Steve ran a hand through his hair, immediately tucking both hands behind his back as he followed Kaya from the lift.

As they neared the ward where Bucky was staying, Steve leaned down, and whispered, "Ditto."

~~O~~

Kaya led Bucky to one of the examination beds and pulled the curtains closed, effectively putting out a Do Not Disturb sign that included Natasha, to her consternation. Steve stopped next to her, hands shoved in his pockets. "Now you see how _I_ feel when the two of you ignore me."

"That's different, Rogers, and you know it."

He looked down at the floor so she couldn't see his eyes. "Um, Nat, I need some advice." Involuntarily, he glanced at the cubicle where they could see shadows dancing on the curtains as Kaya moved around. "It's about…"

Natasha put her hand up. "Let me stop you there, Rogers. We have a pool going, and anything you say would immediately disqualify me from participating. And I've got a twenty riding on the outcome."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode away. Steve huffed. He only knew four people in Wakanda well enough to ask for advice. One had just recused herself, another was related to the subject, and then there was Bucky. His friend had enough on his mind without Steve adding to it.

 _I'll figure it out for myself_. _Or ask Cameron, unless he's in on the pool too_.

 **Safe House**

 **Secret Location**

Laura locked and closed the car door. She set the diaper bag over her shoulder, hitched Nathaniel higher on her hip, and headed out of the parking garage. "Cooper, keep hold of Lila's hand, please."

"Yes, Mom."

They turned left and walked purposefully toward the fast food shop on the corner. Taking a booth near the playground, Laura dropped the diaper bag on the seat. "Wait here. I'll go order."

Seeing this as an adventure, Lila bounced in her seat. "I want milk with mine, Mommy."

"I know, sweetheart." At the register, Laura laid the keys on the counter, and fished out her wallet. "Two kids' meals with milk, please. One boy and one girl toy. Just coffee for me."

The woman behind the counter was plain, with light brown hair in a short ponytail, and a little on the chubby side. "Yes, ma'am."

Huffing at herself, Laura looked apologetic as she passed over cash. "Could I also get an extra toy?"

"Of course." The food items were placed on a tray, and Laura carried it back to the booth.

The kids were happily engrossed in the puzzles and coloring on the place mats when the cashier came to the table with a set of keys. "You left these on the counter, ma'am."

"Thank you. Can't get far without them." The girl smiled blandly and walked away. Laura picked up the keys, noting that while similar to the ones she'd purposely left at the register, they weren't the same.

When the kids finished eating, and had expended some of their pent up energy on the playground, Laura ushered them out to the car indicated by the keys. Instead of a white eco-friendly hybrid, the new vehicle was a small SUV with a baby seat, and booster seat already installed in the back. She strapped Nathaniel into it, checked that it was secure, and stepped back so the older kids could get in, checking that Lila was secure as well. Getting behind the wheel, she belted in, started the engine, and pulled into traffic. At the light, the GPS came on, showing her the route she was to take.

Sighing, she signaled for a turn. As much as she loved her husband, she'd hoped they would never have to use his contingency plan to keep them safe from harm. But what's done is done. She supported him and the job he loved so much, and had vowed to stick with him no matter what.

Forty minutes later, they left the city, Laura's mind going over Clint's instructions one more time. Pay cash, stay small, don't draw attention to yourself. Let the kids be themselves. You're just a normal family out for the day.

At the farmhouse, there were two safes. One for intruders to find, and one they could only find by destroying the house and carting away the debris. From that one she'd taken the cash, most of which was now in the lining of the diaper bag, the one thing she would always have with her.

The hustle and bustle of the city gave way to quiet country lanes. Eventually, they came to the final turn that took them to a gravel road. Going slow, she passed over the cattle guard to where the road was paved with concrete. It curved around to the right, and as they made the last turn, Laura's mouth dropped open.

Instead of a modest home much like their own, before them stood what she thought of when she heard the words "country estate". It sprawled over the land in front of them, and only God knew how far back it went. A dirt road curved around and vanished.

Laura brought the SUV to a stop, shut off the engine, and turned to the kids. "Remember what I told you?"

Cooper rolled his eyes. "You only told us like a _billion_ times, Mom."

Lila unbuckled and stood behind Laura's seat with her hands on the back. " _My_ name is Olivia, his name is Hunter, your name is Charlotte, and Nathaniel is still Nathaniel, 'cause he's a baby."

"Right. And we're here to visit family. On the way, our luggage was lost." She got out, and opened the back door. Lila jumped down, dancing with unsuppressed excitement while Laura took a sleeping Nathaniel from the car seat and draped him over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she put on a smile, and climbed the three small steps up to knock on the door.

 **Safe House**

 **Another Secret Location**

Warily, Hill and Cameron crept along the wall to the door. Hill made a quick scan, nodding to let him know that there were no booby traps on the entrance to the safe house. Though house was a misnomer. More like a warehouse. Crouched behind Hill, he tugged at the collar of his black shirt that cut across his throat just below his Adam's apple. Between that and the Kevlar, Cameron was so uncomfortable, he could barely concentrate. Then there were the fingerless gloves, and the boots. Actually, the gloves weren't a problem. They would come in handy in winter when he had to work outside when he visited his parents in Minnetonka. That is if Hill let him keep them. Maybe he could conveniently forget to give them back.

Hill pulled a device from one of the pockets of her black cargo pants, and sent a signal. Within seconds, she received a response. Nodding, she hefted the AR-15 she carried, indicating he should go in ahead of her.

It only took seconds for them to get inside, and close the door. Cameron mentally patted himself on the back for not tripping over his feet in the boots, or Hill.

She nudged him, keeping her voice low. "Take your weapon out. Stay sharp."

Belatedly, Cameron took out the handgun she insisted he carry, took the safety off, and held it as he'd been taught, in his right hand, supported by the left. He stood back to back with Hill, as they cautiously moved through the dark warehouse filled with boxes, and unused pallets. Somewhere, he heard the skittering of rodents, and suppressed a shudder.

" _Come join the party, Hill. And bring your friend_."

The easily recognizable voice of Agent Romanoff echoed in the vast room. Cameron started to put his weapon away, and Hill stopped him with a shake of her head, mouthing, _Trust, but verify_.

Right. Just because it _sounded_ like Romanoff, didn't mean it _was_ Romanoff.

Cautiously, they moved into the light, and when Hill lowered her weapon, so did he. With the safety back on, and the weapon holstered, he felt less like he'd accidentally shoot himself in the foot, or worse, in the a$$.

Captain Rogers was leaning against a stack of crates, while Romanoff stood in the middle of the pool of light. Off to one side, a dark-skinned man dressed in black lounged, arms crossed, and a piercing gaze that belied the relaxed set of his shoulders. Cameron looked again. _Is that… OMG! It is! King T'Challa of Wakanda. What's_ _he_ _doing here?_

Romanoff motioned them to seats at the table where their plans would be completed, Steve making the introductions. "Your highness, Maria Hill, and Specialist Cameron Klein."

Hill nodded. "Your highness."

Cameron followed Hill's lead. "Your majesty."

T'Challa smiled, and waved a hand. "For this operation, I am but a humble pilot, and fellow warrior. Please, call me T'Challa." The king pulled out the chair next to Cameron, and sat down, gracing him with a benevolent smile. "It's my understanding that it is you who will get us on board the prison."

Hoping he wouldn't be tongue tied, Cameron, shrugged, and pulled set of CDs from one of his many pockets. "Yes, sir." The others looked at him expectantly, and he took that to mean he had the floor.

Cameron went to the end of the table, pulled the computer to him, inserted the first CD, and a hologram came on, hovering over the table. As he talked, he took off the Kevlar, and laid it aside. His teammates asked questions, and he became more at ease in front of them. He even made an amusing quip that had them chuckling, which further built up his confidence.

 **The Raft**

" _Incoming aircraft, you are entering a highly restricted no-fly zone. Veer off immediately, or we_ _will_ _take action! You have ten seconds to comply._ "

At the plane's controls, T'Challa smiled. "They don't sound happy to see us."

Cameron came forward, one hand on the back of the pilot's seat. He reached past the king to activate the comm. "This is Zulu-seven-niner, Senior Computer Specialist Cameron Klein, here for your quarterly maintenance. The code for this week is *******."

In the background, they could hear the comm officer consulting with his superior then was back on. " _You're early, Klein. Stand by_."

"Standing by." To T'Challa, he explained, "This will take a few minutes. The facility is anchored on the bay floor, and only comes to the surface for supplies, and the occasional visitor."

Outside, the storm lashed the aircraft with strong winds, and pelting rain, forcing T'Challa to keep both hands on the controls to maintain their position. What Cameron hadn't told anyone was that he had someone on the inside who would aid them in releasing the prisoners. But his involvement would have to be subtle to keep his superiors from suspecting.

" _We'll be on the surface in five minutes. Prepare to land on the main hangar deck, Zulu-seven-niner_."

"Roger, Raft. Just so you know I've brought my team with me."

A snort came through the comm. " _You have a team now? So, Hill and Fury finally figured out who the brains of SHIELD really is, and decided to promote you?_ "

Cameron shook his head. "That was funny the first five or six times, guys. Not so much now. Company's coming. Break out the margaritas, and fire up the karaoke machine."

T'Challa shook his head and grinned. Cameron mirrored it with one of his own, patted the king on the shoulder and turned to see Steve, Hill, and Natasha staring at him as if he'd grown a third eye. "What?"

 **TBC**


	10. You Gotta Have Faith

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming. And thanks also to Lady Pandora for the name of the chapter. 3

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **You Gotta Have Faith**

 **Avengers HQ**

" _Tony, we have a problem at the Raft…_ "

A small smile came to Tony's face at the frantic note in Ross's voice. "Ah, please hold."

" _No. Don't put me…_ " He pressed the button, cutting Ross off in mid-sentence.

Picking up the paper, Tony read the remainder of the letter from Steve.

"… _I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you were only doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. It's all any of us should. So no matter what, I promise if you need us, if you need_ _me_ _, I'll be there_."

Tony put the letter aside, and turned the box on end. A burner phone fell out. He picked it up, thinking about everything that he and the Avengers had been through the preceding weeks. It was his fault, _and_ Steve's. They were _all_ at fault to some degree. Just like they were all wrong, and right at the same time when it came to the Accords.

That Steve would attempt a jailbreak was inevitable. Asking him to leave his friends in a place they didn't belong was like asking a fox not to break into the henhouse. Once you turn your back, he's there, taking what he wants. Steve would see it as righting an injustice, correcting an error made by someone else.

Yes, they all shared the blame for what happened at Leipzig, but Tony knew that the lion's share lay with him. It always did. But maybe, just maybe, he could give the other side a little push without them knowing. Tony took the communicator from his shirt pocket. "Friday?"

" _Here, bos_ s."

Using one foot, he turned the chair so he could look out the window. "You're still jacked into the Raft, right?"

" _You bet. What d'you need?_ "

"They should be experiencing a prison break lead by Captain Rogers."

There was as short pause, and Friday was back, and her voice held a small amount of humor. " _You nailed it, boss. It's about to go down now, just as Secretary Ross said._ "

Using his foot to swing the chair in a circle, Tony shook the communicator. "Let's give them a helping hand."

This time, Friday sounded intrigued. " _Good idea, boss. What did you have in mind?_ "

With a sad sort of smile, Tony gave Friday instructions for assisting the would-be prison breakers, and sat there watching the line blink just as he'd told Ross. After a few minutes, the light went out.

" _Boss, you're_ _not_ _going to believe this._ "

Thinking about all the wondrous and strange events and situations he'd experienced since becoming Iron Man, Tony scoffed. "I'll believe almost anything. Hit me, girl."

" _Someone's already in there. I'm reading a program that's almost an exact copy of yours._ "

A little annoyed, Tony pushed to his feet, and went to the coffee maker. "How can that be? The original program was written by _me_. It would take a genius on par with my own to…"

" _I've sent the information to you_." Tony touched his phone screen, and a HUD appeared above the bowl of fruit. " _This is the man who created the program._ "

An image of government ID badge hovered in the air. The photo was of a man with dark curly hair, dark eyes, and a nervous expression. Tony sipped his coffee as he examined the photo and personal information displayed next to it. "I know him. He's SHIELD. Or was, and is again, or not. He was on the helicarrier when Fury showed up in Sokovia."

" _Klein, Cameron Alonzo. Twenty-nine, single, born, and raised in Minnetonka, Minnesota. Graduated Carnegie Mellon University with a 4.0 average at the age of twenty-two with dual master's degrees in computer science and electrical engineering, and a bachelor's in mechanical engineering. Spent a year in Wakanda building low income housing, bridges, and water purification plants._

" _While in high school, he was a disc jockey at a local radio station, hosting a three-hour late night jazz-oriented radio show called 'Jammin' with Cam'._ "

Taken aback, he almost did a spit-take. "Really?"

" _No. I threw that in for fun, boss."_

Tony huffed. "Just stick to the facts, Friday."

A hologram of Jack Webb as Sergeant Joe Friday appeared in the air, and included the voice. " _Between the ages of thirteen and sixteen, Mr. Klein was diagnosed with a debilitating illness. In the course of treatment, he tired easily, and was unable to physically keep up with the other kids. While being home schooled by his adoptive parents, he taught himself computer code, and took online programming courses until he became quite adept at using computers._ "

He shook his head, and sipped from the glass. "Go back to the red-head, Friday. How adept?" A series of photos of red-headed women flashed on the screen. "No… no… no… wait… no… no… Forget it." Closing his eyes, he waved a hand. "Continue."

" _The summer Klein was fifteen he hacked into the TechServe, Inc. database and downloaded the then current versions of 'Duty Bound', and 'MegaSphere', corrected the programming issues, improved the graphics, and made the games more player-friendly. He then re-uploaded the games to TechServe's game testers. When he graduated from university, he was recruited by TechServe's headhunters. He turned down a six-figure salary to work for SHIELD._ "

"How could SI have missed recruiting him when Insight nose-dived into the Potomac?"

The short pause gave Tony the impression that Friday had shrugged her shoulders. " _You got me, boss. Want I should send him an invite?_ "

"Give it a couple of months, and I'll let you know."

" _It's on the calendar, boss._ " There was another short pause. " _There's one other item of interest in Mr. Klein's file…_ "

Rather than speak, Friday displayed the information, giving Tony more than a little food for thought. "Who knows about this?"

" _I can only speculate_." Tony made a hurry-up gesture. " _Assuming that Mr. Klein and his parents know, I would say former Commander Hill, and ex-director Fury_."

"Let's keep this to ourselves for now." Tony got to his feet, removed the sling, and tossed it on the desk on his way out the door. "I'll be in the lab. Try not to need me for at least a week. If Rhodey or… No, forward only Rhodey's calls."

" _Yes, boss_."

The AI's tone seemed to indicate that she felt sorry for him. You know your life's in the crapper when you're pitied by a computer program. Tony let out a long exhale as he called for the lift.

 **The Raft**

 **Hangar Deck**

The quinjet landed on the rain-lashed hangar deck, settling into place with barely a thump. While the engines were shutting down, the bay doors enclosed them inside, protecting them from the raging storm.

Steve looked at the mesh mask with misgiving while Natasha put on another as if it were something she did every day. She touched the right temple, and her features changed. Except for the hair and clothing, he wouldn't have known it was her.

It was the same with Hill. Something that happened earlier pricked at Steve's senses. Hill had smiled, walked, talked, and even had the same mannerisms, but something about her wasn't quite right. Steve looked over at where Hill was standing walking with Cameron, their heads close together, talking softly. From the snippets he could hear, she was giving him advice on how to conduct himself during the mission.

After his experience with Natasha and Bucky, Steve now recognized the signs of two people who were secretly intimate. It made him wonder about his own perceptions because he'd gotten the feeling that Hill kept herself emotionally removed from the rest of the staff. But was it because of her personality, professionalism, or she just didn't feel it was a good idea to get close to the people around you for whatever reason? Any one of those could be the why. And if so, then how did she and Cameron become a couple?

There was something else in the way they held themselves. He felt certain he was right about them being a couple, but perhaps they'd parted ways recently, and neither was quite used to it yet.

Once again, Cameron laid his hand on the small of Hill's back, nodding at something she said. Then realizing what he was doing, that hand joined the other behind his back, one hand gripping the other tightly as if to remind himself that he shouldn't be taking liberties any longer. Hill, on the other hand, touched Cameron on the arm, purposely bumped her shoulder against his, and smiled in that way woman did when they were flirting.

For his part, Cameron didn't respond to the gestures, which gave Steve a sense of pride in the man that he could stand his ground in private as well as professionally. Sharon had told Steve about the events that transpired in Operations after his announcement about HYDRA and Pierce. How, even with a gun to his head, Cameron had refused to launch the Insight helicarriers when ordered to do so by Rumlow. According to Sharon, Cameron's exact words were, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm not gonna launch those ships. Captain's orders."

It made Steve proud of the man he barely knew, and a little embarrassed that he'd inspired such devotion. Even considering that he worked for SHIELD, Cameron couldn't have expected to be in such a situation when he sat down at his computer that morning.

Steve had always thought of Cameron as a highly intelligent, yet nervous individual. But what he'd done the day SHIELD fell, and that he'd been willing to not only create a program that would break their friends out of a super-max prison, but insist on being a part of that team said much about his untapped potential.

Averting his gaze when Hill glanced over her shoulder, Steve now faced the back hatch. T'Challa would remain on board; ready to take off at a moment's notice. His second job was as back-up. Hopefully, Plan A would go off without too many hitches, though he wouldn't hold his breath. Thinking about his Howling Commandoes days, he could count the number of times Plan A had worked on one hand. More often, they'd had to go with plans B or C, but nothing beyond that.

Natasha snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Show time, Cap. Look alive. Remember, we're Klein's team, not the other way around. We move on his mark."

She gestured at their clothing. Like Cameron, they were all in black, though not as if they were part of a STRIKE team. And each carried a case that purportedly contained their equipment for performing routine, and not so routine, maintenance on the Raft's systems. The true contents would set off alarms all over the Raft.

Hill drew Cameron to the top of the ramp, giving his arm a quick squeeze, and nodding confidently, telling Steve that part of their whispered conversations were pep talks.

Cameroon took a deep breath, and let it out. He nodded to T'Challa, who hit the ramp controls. When the hatch was fully open, Cameron glanced over his shoulder at Steve, and he gave him a nod. At that, the computer tech's demeanor changed. He stood up straighter, shoulders back, and lifted his chin proudly as he marched down the ramp and across the vast hangar.

To the left and right were armored quinjets for transporting prisoners in case the Raft had to be evacuated. Equipment that Steve assumed was for maintaining the ships and the prison squatted along the periphery. Behind several panes of bullet and explosive proof glass, heavily armed guards glared at the approaching group. One man stood, and left the room, appearing in a doorway directly in front of them.

The man stood just over six feet, with dark hair, and the distinctive features marking him as Native American. His eyes were either light brown or hazel. Steve couldn't tell in this light. He was extremely fit, and wore his weapons, and authority, with casual strength, and assurance. He was good at his job, and knew it. Anyone who thought he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings would get a rude awakening, probably in the infirmary, if they chose to go against him in a fight.

From their body language, Steve could tell Cameron and the other man knew each other. The guard smiled warmly at Cameron as they shook hands. And if he had to guess, the two men had known each other for many years, possibly since before either had joined SHIELD.

"Peter Nacoma, senior agent for the Raft," Cameron waved a hand as he introduced them. "Jules Vero." Hill nodded, and gave Nacoma a tentative smile. "Franny Asher." Natasha took a half-step forward, leaving Steve for last. "Curtis Brooks."

"Welcome to the Raft. I suppose you've heard about our famous guests."

With Cameron in the lead, they followed Nacoma into the security office to have their IDs verified. Natasha touched Steve on the hand, and nodded. Steve crossed his arms to let her know he'd seen the look that passed between Nacoma and Cameron. They had a man on the inside, and Nacoma was it.

"We did, Agent Nacoma." Cameron smiled as he stepped out of the way. "In fact, that's why we're here."

In a flurry of hand-to-hand, the other guards were unconscious on the floor. Nacoma rushed to the main security controls, one hand out. Cameron passed him a clear data card, the agent stuck it in a specific slot, and tapped a few keys. "If anyone taps into the video feed, everything will look normal."

Steve stepped forward, asserting his place as their leader. The team opened the cases, and pulled out their weapons. These were meant to render an enemy combatant unconscious, not dead. "This has to be a quick in and out before Ross can send back-up."

Nacoma gestured, and the group followed him down a long corridor. "As long as they don't find out I helped you, it's all good."

Cameron stayed next to his friend, who gave him an odd look at seeing him carrying one of the weapons as if he knew how to use it. And he did. Hill and Natasha had seen to it. "No worries, Pete. We got it covered." At the lift doors, Steve, Natasha and Hill removed their masks, and shoved them into their pockets, revealing their true selves.

~~O~~

At the look on his friend's face, Cameron smirked. "Let me re-introduce my team. Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America."

Steve nodded. "Agent Nacoma."

Natasha stepped forward. Just before the mission, she'd cut her hair short again. "Natasha Romanoff. They call me the Black Widow."

When Maria moved to his side, Cameron couldn't help wishing things had been different between them. "Maria Hill, former commander of SHIELD. Everyone, Peter and I have known each other since we were kids."

The lift doors opened, and they got on. Using his code, Peter sent them downward toward the max prison cells at mid-level. "We used to tell people we were brothers from another mother."

Steve pushed the sleeves of his black sweater up over his forearms. "How are they? If your men have been mistreating them…"

Instead of being insulted, as Cameron thought, Peter caught and held Steve's gaze. "This isn't Gitmo, Captain Rogers. We're in international waters, and are governed by a select committee that oversees all that we do. Everyone here is treated with dignity, and compassion. They're just not allowed to move freely about the prison."

Cameron held out the tablet he'd used to tap into the video feeds for the cells. He enlarged the one of Wanda, showing her in a straightjacket and shock collar. "You were saying?"

"Not _my_ doing, Cam. Orders from Secretary Ross. That man manifests a loathing for Inhumans that stops short of becoming real hate. But he's also afraid of them. He believes they're all abominations. Mixed in with the disgust is fear. Not only for himself, but for mankind. He truly believes that one day, Inhumans will outnumber ordinary humans."

With Steve standing next to him, Cameron could feel the stiffness in his posture at the mention of Ross. Before Steve or one of the others, could reply, Cameron powered down the tablet and shoved it into the inside pocket of his shirt. "Most of the Inhumans are enhanced, not mutants. The difference is that they were given their abilities through genetic manipulation, rather than nature."

Huffing, Peter crossed his arms. "We've been _over_ this, Cam. I'm on your side. Always have been, always will. And yes, I do know the difference. We were ordered to take precautions so that Maximoff wouldn't influence those around her. Ross is afraid that if she's permitted to, she'll force us to turn on each other, or let them go. And he wants the Avengers to be an example to the rest of the Inhumans."

Annoyed, Natasha tensed up at the remark. "Only Wanda is Enhanced. The rest are just like you and me, Agent Nacoma."

Hill shifted her weight onto both feet equally, her finger caressing the trigger guard. "Forget about Ross. Let's get this done, and get out of here."

As if her words were a signal, the lift eased to a stop, and the doors slid open. Four brightly lit cells could be seen to the left, with a bank of huge monitors to the right. In the middle, sunken down a half level sat several guards going about their business, and paying no attention to the group as they stepped out of the lift.

On the far end was Clint, lying on his bed, knees up and hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Scott Lang sat on the floor, drumming on a small stool. Wanda… the poor girl looked defeated, demoralized, and bored all at once. Falcon paced his cell like a caged animal who was beginning to think he'd be locked up in this place for the rest of his life.

It made Cameron angry, and at the same time proud that he would be instrumental in helping them escape from an unjust incarceration.

Maria gripped his arm and smiled. "You can do this, Cam. I have faith in you."

Feeling confident and self-assured, Cameron hefted his weapon, powered it up, and grinned. "Saddle up, team. Lock and load."

 **Tony's Lab**

Hand to his chin in thought, Tony walked around the holographic display hovering in the middle of the room. He heard a beep just before Friday announced, " _Analysis complete. The mechanism is highly sophisticated. More so than what has been expected of HYDRA's pre-Loki's scepter tech. The arm fed input directly to and from Sergeant Barnes' brain so that it would function as if it were his flesh and blood limb. Well, except for the ability to deflect bullets, withstand Tasering, beams from the arc reactor, and a host of other benefits._ "

"Meaning he had a sense of touch, and could feel pleasure and pain. Makes sense. HYDRA may be evil, and too much into the world domination thing, but slackers they weren't."

" _There's more, and you're not gonna like it, Boss._ "

Tony picked up a bag of blueberries, and popped a few in his mouth as he leaned against a table. "I already _don't_. Hit me."

" _Most of the components were made by SI_."

He dropped into a chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Not surprised. We've been selling to all the companies doing advanced cybernetic work since 2008. Even do some of the R&D on-site."

" _Sorry to be the one to say it, boss, but many of the bits and pieces made by SI are at least thirty years old_."

Surprised, Tony sat up straighter in his chair, and reached for a glass of iced coffee. "And the rest?

" _They vary in age, with the newest having been made by SI in the last couple of years_."

"Did you say _thirty_ years? 3-0? Can't be right. Run the scan again."

The hologram turned and twisted. The arm split in half, with several different colors flashing. The legend ran down the right side indicating the age and composition of each component being scanned. " _All previous scans confirmed. The majority of the cybernetic parts for this limb, and presumably its predecessors, were made by Stark Industries_."

Tony got up, and walked around the hologram, using his right hand to turn some pieces, and enlarge others, so he could see them better. "If what we're both seeing is true…"

There was a pause that gave him the idea that Friday felt sorry for him. " _It is. The company your father founded made the 'weapon' that ultimately killed him._ "

 **TBC**

 _Faith_ is a song written and performed by George Michael, and was released October 1987.


	11. Sanity is a Cozy Lie

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

Sanity is a cozy lie.

~ Susan Sontag

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Sanity is a Cozy Lie**

It was dark again, just a sliver of light at the bottom of the door to see by. Not that there was much to see. Everything had been taken from her. Reading material had been removed along with the metal tray and silverware. Now they fed her finger food that came on paper plates. The next things to go were the table and chairs. After that, it was the bed frame. Then the sheets, and pillow, and lastly, the mattress, leaving her with only the cold floor to sit on. At least they let her keep her clothes.

One day, after she'd tried to use the overhead light to short out the electronic lock on the door, her captors had wrestled her into a straightjacket, and sedated her. When she woke up, she was in a different room, one with padded walls. The lights in the ceiling were covered by a clear and unbreakable barrier. Didn't really matter much anyway. Without the bed, table and chair, she couldn't reach it.

Her stomach growled. That meant someone would be bringing food soon. She sniffed herself. Maybe she could convince them to give her a shower or bath in the near future, if she promised to behave.

Sometimes, when she was asleep, she could almost remember a life outside of this place. In that life, she sensed that she'd held a position in which she wielded a great deal of power, and influence. And if she could remember that, she felt certain that she would also remember who she was, and how she came to be here.

And why, every time the doctor came in, she was sedated. Many times she'd tried to fight them, but they overwhelmed her with strength and numbers. When she'd awakened, the inside of her elbows would hurt, and there would be small marks, tiny red dots that would taunt her with their presence.

Sitting in the corner, she rested her head against the wall. It felt cool against her scalp. With her right hand, she traced the shape of an eagle. Around the edges, she wrote letters without knowing what they meant. S… H… I… E… L… D… That spelled shield. But what did an object used for protection in battle have to do with birds?

When she first arrived, she'd exercised to keep her strength up. But then she thought why bother? Every time she tried to stand up for herself, demanding to be treated with respect and compassion, her captors would sedate her, and she'd wake up in the straightjacket again. A woman came in periodically to talk to her. That stopped as well, and she couldn't understand why. She hadn't hit the woman that hard, and her black eye was gone within a week.

Running fingers through her hair and over her face, she remembered that she hadn't seen her reflection since the last time they'd served her meal on a metal tray. Did she still have dark brown hair, light blue eyes, and a straight nose? She'd lost weight; that was evident in the fact that her pants barely stayed on her hips when she stood.

She lay down on her side with her head pillowed on her hands, sighed, and closed her eyes.

If only she could remember…

 **Tony's Lab**

Soaking in the revelation that his father had died in the same manner as he nearly had in Afghanistan, Tony turned and threw the glass of iced coffee at the wall, spraying the dark liquid, ice and broken glass all over. Immediately, Dummy rushed to clean it up, pulling up short when Tony shouted at him, "Touch that, and I will take you apart with a fire ax!"

The chastised robot backed away, and returned the broom and dustpan to the supply closet.

Tony went to the liquor cabinet in his office, and took out a bottle of single malt whiskey. When he came out, Dummy was there holding a crystal tumbler with five ice cubes. Decorum _must_ be maintained, after all. He splashed a full four fingers into the glass, took it from the 'bot, and went to the window that looked out over several hundred acres of pristine forest.

Far away, he could see a bit of the small lake, and in his mind, he jumped into the boat docked there, and sped away. However, he more than most knew that there were some things you couldn't run away from: your past, yourself, and the truth were three of them.

He drained the glass, and was in the process of pouring a second when Vision phased through the wall. The bottle clanked on the table, and Tony returned to his contemplation of how his life had been nothing but crap recently. "Get out. And use the door."

The words were said without venom or belligerence. Vision seldom took offense, in any case.

"I do apologize for interrupting, Tony. You have a phone call."

"Take a message."

Vision, wearing his "off duty" uniform of dark pants, matching sweater, and white shirt with an ascot, appeared next to Tony's reflection in the glass. "I think you'll want to take this one, my friend. It's Ms. Potts."

~~O~~

Against Wanda's standing orders, Vision phased through the wall into her room. The day Clint had come for her she'd planned on changing the sheets, dusting, and vacuuming the carpet. In her absence, he'd done the work himself, making certain that nothing was out of place when he finished.

He stood for a long time in the middle of the room, and eventually, his eyes sought out the guitar. Clint had been teaching Wanda how to play. For a while, she'd practiced every day. That stopped after the incident in Lagos. She spent most of her free time in her room, as Clint called it, moping, and watching the news programs that blamed her for the deaths. What the authorities, and the news agencies, ignored was the fact that had Wanda not been there, the number of fatalities and damage to property would've been much greater.

Closing his eyes, Vision shuffled through the vast knowledge stored in his brain, choosing and discarding until he found what he wanted. It wasn't perfect, nothing ever was or would be, but it would do.

Wrapping his purple fingers around the neck of the guitar, he carried it over to the chair, sat down, removed the pick from under the strings, and used it to check the tuning. He adjusted the B string, second from the bottom, and plucked it again.

Keeping Clint's lessons in mind, which he'd listened in on, Vision played a few practice chords, humming the note to test the tuning. And when he was ready, he played without singing.

 _If I could save time in a bottle  
The first thing that I'd like to do  
Is to save every day  
'Til eternity passes away  
Just to spend them with you_

 _If I could make days last forever  
If words could make wishes come true  
I'd save every day like a treasure and then,  
Again, I would spend them with you_

 _But there never seems to be enough time  
To do the things you want to do  
Once you find them  
I've looked around enough to know  
That you're the one I want to go  
Through time with_

 _If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you_

 _But there never seems to be enough time  
To do the things you want to do  
Once you find them  
I've looked around enough to know  
That you're the one I want to go  
Through time with…_

 **The Raft**

Often, when in that place in between sleep and dreaming, Wanda could hear the minds of others calling out. Most nights she was able to block them, allowing her to sleep, though her dreams of late were seldom pleasant, but neither were they frightening. Just now and then.

Now, she looked down, and a grey-blue fog teased her ankles, swirling, and changing like clouds before a storm. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a child crying, as if she were lost in the dark. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

Wanda turned in a circle to locate the source, but it seemed to come from all around. She took a few steps in the direction she was facing, and the sound got louder. " _Malyutka?_ "

The wailing tapered off without stopping. She broke into a slow jog, turning her head this way and that, still looking for the source. " _Malyutka?_ "

Her run through the fog stirred the murky mess until it came up to her knees. Holding still, and barely breathing, Wanda heard sniffling. As the fog settled again, she saw a small girl huddled on the floor-ground?-wearing a red hat with a black stripe, a dark grey long sleeved t-shirt with a cat on the front, matching pants, and black sneakers. Tucked under one arm was a teddy bear dressed in a pink tutu, slippers, and bow. She knelt down next to the child, gently touching her shoulder. "What's wrong, _malyutka_?"

The girl had dark brown hair, and crystal blue eyes that peered at her with such intensity that Wanda got the sense that an old soul lived inside this small body. "Want Mommy."

"I'll help you find her."

She shook her head. "Can't. Mommy in heaven."

"I'm sorry, _de'votsjka_. What about your papa?"

The blue eyes grew even sadder, if that was possible. "He don' wike me."

"Why not?"

Wanda sat cross-legged, and the girl sat up, rubbing her eyes, and squeezing the bear tighter. "Cuz he says I sent Mommy to heaven."

Appalled that a father would treat his child in this manner, Wanda brushed the hair out of her eyes, and smiled. "I'm sorry."

The child climbed up on her lap and snuggled into her arms, the bear tucked against her chest. She probably hadn't had much affection from her father, and was starved for it. So much so that she would accept it from a stranger. Wanda cuddled her close. "My name is Wanda. What's yours?" Half asleep, she mumbled something that sounded like "Ria". "I should take you to your papa, Ria."

She squirmed and tried to get away, pushing at her chest with both hands, and kicking her legs. "No, no, no! Don' want Daddy! Want Mommy!"

Holding on tight, Wanda tried to reassure Ria. "Sh! Don't worry, _de'votsjka_. I won't take you to your papa. We'll stay here together. Just you and me."

"An' Seeve."

"Who's Seeve?"

One arm curled around Wanda's neck. "Seeve gon' save me. Seeve 'n his fwends." Once she stopped wiggling, Ria closed her eyes, and fell into a light doze.

Closing her eyes too, Wanda rocked, and hummed a Sokovian lullaby, and a moment later, Ria was asleep. Getting to her knees then to her feet, she looked around for something familiar, somewhere to take the child so she could rest. But there was nothing. Only fog as far as she could see.

Then suddenly, she was standing in an expensively furnished child's bedroom. Books, dolls, and stuffed animals were placed neatly on the shelves. The toy box lid was closed, and beside it sat an antique rocking chair that looked like it hadn't been used in many years. A pink handmade quilt hung over the back.

Wanda laid the sleeping child in the crib, pulled a blanket up to her chest, and ran a finger down her smooth cheek. " _Spokoynoy nochi,_ Ria."

She turned away, a sad smile coming to her face when Ria whispered, " _Spokoynoy nochi,_ Wanda."

Then she wondered how a child this small could know Russian when she was obviously American, unless she was simply repeating the words.

The light on the dresser pulsed, drawing her attention, growing brighter and brighter, until its light engulfed the room.

When she could see again, Wanda found herself back in her cell. The lights had been dimmed to simulate night. Soft snores came from the men, and strange as it may seem, the sound comforted her, reminding her that she wasn't alone in this place. Shaking her head, Wanda turned as far onto her side as she could in the straightjacket and collar, and closed her eyes.

A few days before, she'd seen the same girl, a little older, only then she'd hovered above without interacting, watching her being taught how to roller-skate by a boy around the same age. He'd called her Skates, and their attitude toward each other was that of brother and sister, not boyfriend and girlfriend. They'd skated for hours that day. And later, Skates went out every day, alone or with the boy, David, who was apparently the son of the cook. Whoever Skates really was, her family was wealthy in every way except the one that really meant something. There was no love exhibited toward Skates by her father. And Wanda had seen it first, or rather second hand through the eyes of the girl.

When she heard the front door slam, Skates had rushed to show him her newfound skills, and his response had been heartbreaking. "Don't skate in the house. You'll ruin the floors."

A moment later, the man had gone into another room, closing the door with a solid click. Skates said nothing. Just let herself out the front door, and had continued to skate up and down the long driveway and around to the back of the house over and over, until the cook called her to get ready for dinner.

In defiance, Skates changed for dinner, and had worn the skates in place of shoes. Her father had taken in the footwear with a glance, but said nothing. And all through the meal, not one word had passed between them. Wanda got the sense that it was the norm rather than the exception. She counted herself lucky that she and Pietro had such loving parents when they were younger that meal times were often lively, with everyone sharing triumphs and tragedies, and everything in between. It made her sad for the girl, whoever she was. Wanda just couldn't understand why she was seeing the same girl at different ages.

 **Tony's Lab**

After speaking to Pepper, Tony needed someone to confide in, someone who wouldn't judge, and at the same time give him advice he could actually use. He thought of Rhodey, but his friend had gone to stay with his mother for a few weeks while recuperating from the near paralysis. One more thing to add to the list, the red in his ledger, as Natasha would say. If hers was dripping red, then his was gushing like a Texas oil well. And like an oil well, it would eventually run dry, but he didn't see that happening anytime soon.

Sitting heavily in a chair, Tony planted his elbows on his knees, and dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his cheeks, and into his hair. He leaned back, slump down on his spine, one arm across his chest and the other hand over his eyes.

Peeking between his fingers, his gaze landed on the burner phone Steve had sent him along with an apology and a promise. The first hadn't been necessary, but he wouldn't have been Steve Rogers if he hadn't shouldered at least part of the blame for their situation. The second warmed Tony's heart at a time when he needed it most. And though he wanted to call Steve, to work out a way for them all to be a family once again, he knew it wasn't possible. Not yet. The wounds were still too fresh.

Plus, there was that whole prison break thing going on. If they were still a team, he'd be there with the others. But he'd signed the Accords, and had to abide by them, whether he liked it or not.

"If we were still a team, this wouldn't be happening. And it's my fault. If I hadn't been squirreled away, incommunicado, working on the next gen Iron Man suits, I would've been in Lagos with the team. I could've flown Rumlow out of the area, and no one would've been killed." Tony swung to his feet, and reached for the bottle of scotch. "Except me."

Tony walked to the far wall to stand in front of the Captain America shield he'd hung there. He swirled the scotch in the glass, and took a sip. The shield was back with its original owner, so to speak. Yes, he told Steve that he didn't deserve it, but that wasn't true. No one deserved it more. As for the rest, Tony deserved each and every "screw you", and "sonofab****" that Steve, and the others could hurl at him.

He took one last sip, turned and stared at the glass, twisting it in his hand, contemplating having it join the other in pieces on the floor. Then calmly set it on the table, and walked to the lifts, getting out on the top level. "Suit me up, Friday."

An Iron Man suit flew out of a hidden panel in the side of the main lab to land behind Tony. He stepped back, and it enclosed him inside like an alloy cocoon.

" _Where're we headed, boss?_ "

"For the Iron Man version of a long drive."

The arc reactor in the middle of the chest glowed with blue-white light, and Tony flashed back to the moment Barnes had tried to pull it from his chest, accidentally activating the beam that severed his biomechanical arm. He knew that Steve and Barnes both thought he'd done it on purpose, but he hadn't. With his face pushed into the wall, he couldn't see what Barnes was doing. The reactor was programmed to defend itself if anyone but Tony tampered with it.

Now Tony had partial possession of the weapon that had killed his parents. His research so far showed that the arm could be programmed by an outside source. So even if Barnes had been cognizant of his actions, he might not have been able to stop himself.

And the tone of Barnes' voice when he said, "I remember all of them" had finally hit home with Tony. Barnes may not have known what he was doing at the time, but he still remembered all of the people he'd killed on orders from HYDRA.

Right now, Tony just needed to blow off steam. He moved out onto the helipad, and took off with no real destination in mind.

 **The Raft**

Cameron stood out of the way while his companions took out the guards, quietly and with minimal fuss by tossing a grenade specially made to emit an invisible and odorless gas to knock them out. It wouldn't affect the prisoners due to the environmental system that kept the guards and prisoners' air separate in case of an uprising.

Once that was done, and the system had removed the gas, they moved the bodies out of the way. Cameron chose a station, sat down and went to work. The CD slid easily into the slot, whirring through the start-up.

Behind him, his companions made themselves known to the prisoners while he figured out how to get them out.

~~O~~

Clint stared at the ceiling, wondering where his wife and kids were, and if they were safe. Behind him, he heard the guards moving around, talking softly. That meant they were changing shifts again. Second time in three hours.

Then he heard sounds that didn't belong. He rolled to his feet, hands at his sides ready to fight, if need be. But it wasn't a guard coming toward him out of the darkness.

Natasha came up to the bars, a smirk on her beautiful face. "You don't look any worse for being behind bars."

He leaned one arm on the door. "Looks can be deceiving, Nat. Wanna let us out?"

"Workin' on it." Her grin faded. "How you doing? Really?"

"It's not _me_ I'm worried about."

His best friend nodded, knowing without being told. "They're fine. No worries."

Looking to the left, he nodded. "How's Wanda?"

"I'll check on her." And with that, she was gone again. Clint could hear both women's voices, Natasha's soothing and calm, and Wanda's urgent, and fearful. For herself _and_ for those around her. Farther down, Clint heard Steve talking to Sam, and Scott.

Moments later, the doors slid open, and they were free. Hardly daring to believe it, Clint took a step forward, bracing himself for the shock that didn't come. Relieved, he rushed down to Wanda's cell, pushing past the group to see her for himself. He crouched in front of her where she was sitting in the corner of her cell. "Wanda?"

Scott came down next to him, "She won't let anyone touch her."

Wanda turned limpid eyes on the men. "The collar is rigged to deliver a shock not only to me, but to anyone who does not know the code. If you tamper with it, there is also an explosive that will kill everyone within four meters."

Obviously, she expected her cellmates, and rescuers to back off at that revelation. Her eyes widened when they all moved closer. She smiled. "So we're the Musketeers, now?"

Clint responded, "You bet your ass." He looked over his shoulder, finding Steve standing on the periphery. "What's the word, Cap?"

Steve glanced over his shoulder at someone Clint couldn't see, nodding. "Won't be long."

Reaching out, then thinking better of it, Scott dropped his hand to Wanda's knee. "Can't we at least get her out of this jacket?"

Sam stepped forward, arms crossed. "What if it's rigged too?"

One side of Wanda's mouth turned up. "It's not. I have looked into the minds of our captors in unguarded moments. Gently, so they wouldn't suspect or feel it. There are no booby traps on this…" she indicated the blue fabric wrapped around her torso.

Together, Clint and Scott, carefully unbuckled the straps in the back, eased the straightjacket off, and threw it aside. Wanda flexed her fingers, and arms as much as she dared. Then the men helped her stand and walk over to her bunk.

Steve came to examine the collar closer, raising his voice to speak to someone in the security area. "How much longer, Cam?"

" _Almost done, Cap._ " They heard rapid typing, beeps, clicks, and a whirring. The blinking lights on the collar went out. " _Try it now._ "

Not willing to let anyone else take the risk, Clint worked at the closure in the back until it clicked open. He shared a glance with the others, and slowly opened the circle of metal and moved it away from Wanda's neck. Relieved, they all breathed a sigh.

Sam took the collar from Clint, and he gathered Wanda into his arms for a long hug. He leaned back, framing her face with his hands. "Are you alright?"

She smiled, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "I am now." Her gaze took them in one at a time. "Thank you. There were times I thought I'd go mad."

Speaking up for the first time since they'd come on board, Hill remarked, "Sanity is a cozy lie we tell ourselves when the world stops making sense."

Not wanting to be ignored, Scott touched her on the shoulder. "But you had it worse. It's over now. Let's get out of here."

The group moved out into the security area just as the lift doors opened and a guard stepped out. Hill's Taser came up, and fired in one smooth movement, and missed when the doors closed. "Damn it!"

"Time to go. Cameron?" Steve moved down to the tech's side. "Can you jam his signal?"

"Too late, Cap. Sorry."

Steve touched his shoulder comfortingly. "If we missed one, there could be others. Let's get out of here before Ross sends reinforcements."

~~O~~

Wanda headed toward the lift with the others, stumbling to a stop when she heard a mental cry for help. "Wait! Someone else is here."

Scott touched his hand gently to her upper back. "Are you sure? I thought we were it."

"I'm sure. I've been sensing another presence for several days. At first, I thought it was my imagination, that I was slowly going mad. But now, I can hear her. She's calling out to me for help."

On Wanda's other side, Clint snapped his fingers. "I get paid the same whether it's one prisoner or five." To the others, he explained. "I didn't pick up on it at the time. One of the guards said he got paid the same whether there's one prisoner or five."

Steve's eyes met each set around him. Everyone was in agreement. "That means there's another prisoner on board."

 **TBC**

 _Time in a Bottle_ is a hit single by singer-songwriter Jim Croce, released November 1973.

 _Malyutka_ = Little one, generic gender

 _De'votsjka_ = Girl younger than five

 _Spokoynoy nochi_ = Good night


	12. Keep Me Searching

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Keep Me Searching**

Wanda gripped Clint's arm, and he patted her hand comfortingly. "We have to take her with us, Clint. She doesn't belong here anymore than we do. Even more so."

Taking charge, Steve pointed at Hill. "Stay with Cam. We'll be back soon."

"Yes, boss," the former SHIELD commander said mockingly, though Wanda sensed she didn't mind at all. If fact, she relished the idea.

Carefully digging just a little deeper, Wanda found what she suspected. Hill and the young man were lovers who had recently parted. She hoped by staying with him that they might get back together. There was more. Much more, and some of it didn't make sense. But Wanda needed to concentrate on the prisoner in order to locate her.

By probing her mind, she found the name the guards called her: Jane Doe. More because she couldn't tell them her name than she was a non-entity in their eyes. A few mocked her, calling her Janie, the crazy girl. Asked her where Tarzan and Cheetah were. And when she fought back, the doctor sedated her.

A hand touched Wanda's shoulder, and she jerked upright to see the others watching her with concern. Scott and Clint stayed at her side, though for different reasons. The two men alternated glaring at each other, and staring into space as if the other didn't exist.

Scott's concern came from two different sources: chivalry, and attraction. He barely knew her before this whole mess started, yet he thought she was "great". But that could mean many different things, and now wasn't the time to go into them.

Though he tried to hide it, he was attracted to her as a romantic partner, and was mentally kicking himself because of their age differences. She had turned twenty-one this past year, while Scott was nearly twice that. To let him know that she welcomed his attention, she briefly gripped his hand, flashing him a smile when he gave her a wide-eyed stare that turned into a smile as well.

~~O~~

Though Wanda appeared almost fragile, Scott knew that wasn't the case. She was strong in both mind and body. Two facets of her that he greatly admired. That it all came wrapped in a smokin' hot package was a bonus.

She startled him by taking his hand, and her smile said she was interested too. But there between them like an elephant in the lift was the fact of their age difference. Though it didn't seem to bother her, he didn't relish being called a dirty old man for dating a woman half his age. And there was no doubt that she was a woman, and not a girl.

Wanda's hold on his hand tightened to the point that it hurt. Scott subtly tried to extricate his hand, but that made her grip tighten more. He didn't want the others, especially Clint, to know what was going on, but he didn't see a way out.

She squeezed once more, forcing him to inhale sharply. "Ow! Wanda! Let go!"

As suddenly as it began, she released him. Scott rubbed his fingers to restore the circulation, and Wanda turned a look of apology on him. "Forgive me, Scott. I was communicating with Jane's mind. Her thoughts are chaotic, and disorganized. Much like the sea around us. She felt my gentle nudges as an intrusion, and pushed back. Hers is a strong mind, even in its present state."

Steve faced her. "Did she tell you anything useful?"

"No. One day is much like another to her. She marks the passing of time by when she is brought meals, which hasn't been for some time, apparently."

"If she fights us, we can knock her out until we get away," Sam suggested.

Clint glared at Scott while speaking to the others. "It has to be soon. Ross won't send a rent-a-cop to check it out. He'll mount the modern version of the invasion of Normandy."

Wanda nodded, and closed her eyes once more. A moment later, she opened them, and reached out to touch one of the floor buttons, sending the lift dropping through the Raft.

~~O~~

The door opened, and the group spilled out with Wanda in the lead. She ran down one hallway, stopped for a moment to get her bearings, and made a left at the junction, skidding to a stop in front of a cell marked PD-4337.

Scott pushed to the front of the group where he spent just a few moments examining the controls. Holding out his hand, he grinned at Clint when he dropped a knife in his outstretched palm. Using the knife to pry off the cover, he moved the control crystals around, paused, moved them again, swore, and tried one more time. The door to their right clicked, and Steve used his considerable strength to push it the rest of the way open.

The room was dark, and they could see that it was heavily padded on all but the ceiling. Over his shoulder, Steve asked, "Can you get us some lights, Scott?"

"Yeah, sure. Gimme a sec."

Though not bright, they were able to see a figure in pink scrubs huddled in the far corner. She was curled in the fetal position, knees drawn up to her chest, and arms wrapped around herself, facing the wall.

She had dark hair well past her shoulders that hadn't been washed in some time, and her skin, what they could see of it, had the pasty look that some called prison pallor. Only her chest moved as she breathed. On the wall above her, she'd drawn a bird of some kind with squiggles around the head in her own blood. If you squinted with your mind, and tilted your head to one side, it superficially resembled the SHIELD logo.

Stepping in front of the group, Natasha told them without words that she would approach the woman alone, and that the others should go outside so they wouldn't alarm her.

Natasha waited until Steve had closed the door all but a few inches. To appear less intimidating, she got down on her knees. "Jane? Please come with us." She inched closer, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Jane?"

There was no response except for the slight increase in her breathing, letting Natasha know she was awake and aware that she wasn't alone. Natasha turned her onto her back, and without warning, the woman was on top of her, growling deep in her throat, sounding like a feral cat that had been cornered, and was fighting back. Using her skills for defense only, Natasha kept Jane from scratching or biting.

Suddenly, Jane's weight disappeared, and Natasha rolled to her feet, still in defense mode. Steve had hold of Jane, pinning her arms so she couldn't attack, giving Natasha a sense of relief. Jane's dirty hair covered her face, bits of it clinging to the sweat rolling off her forehead, and down her neck. "Let her go, Steve."

"She'll hurt herself or someone else, Nat."

"You're scaring her."

The others edged into the room, staying near the door. Jane kicked her feet out at Natasha, still trying to fight her. She worked one arm free, using it to grab Steve's hair. Clint and Sam rushed forward to help their friend while Scott went looking for the medical bay, because it looked like the only way they were going to get her out any time soon was to sedate her.

~~O~~

Having separated himself from the group without them noticing, Peter made his way to all the areas where he knew his people were working or playing, and checked on those who were in their quarters.

He caught Vega right after he sent a distress signal, knocked him out, and carried him to his quarters. A few other stragglers were rounded up, and afterward, he sent a message to Cameron letting him know the situation. Cameron messaged back about the storm, which gave them a couple of extra hours to work with.

Relieved, Peter jogged around the corner to his supervisor's room, said a silent prayer that she wasn't naked or in a compromising situation, and used his override to open her quarters.

He found Reva on the floor, half dressed. She'd obviously been responding to the alarm sent out by Vega. After pulling the sides of her shirt closed, he straightened her limbs or he'd have to hear about her sciatica and sore neck for the next week.

Once his search was through, Peter returned to Operations, only to find his pal, Cameron, and the one called Hill locked in a passionate kiss. He backed out slowly, and went to check on the only female prisoner.

When he got close to PD-4337, the home of Jane Doe for the last two years, he heard the voices of the prisoners, and their rescuers discussing Jane, whose name was apparently Maria Hill. But that didn't make sense, unless she was related to the Hill sucking on his friend's face. All the same, he decided to go check on him again.

~~O~~

Several times, Maria tried to talk to him, Cameron responding with the fewest words possible to discourage it. When that didn't work, she dragged a chair over and sat down, scooting close enough that their shoulders touched. Still, he ignored her, and soon she backed off.

Sure that was the end of it, he was startled when she spun him around, straddled his lap, and kissed him. He held onto her shoulders, and pushed her back until their mouths lost contact. "Maria! Please _stop_! I need to get this done."

"Don't want you to forget what you're missing."

Leaning back, Cameron told her truthfully, "Oh, I won't. Believe me. But Cap expects this to be done when they're ready to go."

She gave him that smile, the one that used to make him weak in the knees. It still did, but he couldn't let it distract him. And that's when it hit him. His mind finally put all the clues together that he'd been ignoring all these months, and they all added up to… a distraction.

In the past, she would provide a distraction of some sort when he seemed on the verge of a major discovery. She'd done it during the Ultron incident, and again before they headed to the rendezvous.

Since arriving at the Raft, every time he called up the inmate's files to find out if they'd been mistreated at all, Maria would do something to derail his train of thought, and he would go on to something else until he remembered. Was there something Maria didn't want him to see in those files? Whatever was in them, he now wanted to see it even more.

Why would she be doing this? What was her motiva…

Between two heartbeats, all the tiny little clues his subconscious had been gathering over the months finally fell into place, and he could see what Maria wanted to keep hidden: her true self.

To keep her from knowing that he knew what she didn't want him to know, Cameron stopped struggling against Maria's advances, and let himself enjoy it. He put his arms around her, and her hands came to rest on his shoulders as he kissed her at the base of her neck, traveling slowly upward, making her wait for what she wanted.

And then… he pounced.

~~O~~

While in the medical bay, Scott made a quick scan of Jane's medical file, paying particular attention to the dosages and types of medications she'd been given. He didn't much like what he saw, which oozed over the edge into malpractice. A quick search of the doctor's desk revealed a thumb drive.

Instead of finding a way to help Jane get better, she was being treated as little more than a nuisance, an unruly child. But unlike a child, they'd been given carte blanche to handle her as they saw fit. If they continued to pacify her with medication, her brain would be irreparably damaged, and she'd end up catatonic. Or so said the quick read he'd done on the effects of the different types of medications she was being given, and the side effects from their interactions. And it had all been done of the orders of someone by the name of Gideon Malick.

But they couldn't really do much for Jane at the moment. They had to get her away from this place, and into a facility that would get her the help she needed.

Scott returned to the padded cell with an auto injector filled with a strong sedative to find his companions inside the room, and Steve, Clint and Sam holding Jane down.

"I'm back, guys." He held up the injector. "According to what I read, it has to go in her backside."

As the men turned Jane over, the hair in her face parted. Seeing what he had in his hands, she panicked, shouting, "No!" over and over.

Natasha crawled over to her. "Please let us help you."

Coming to Natasha's side, Wanda knelt down with her. "We don't want to hurt you, Jane. We-"

In a surge of strength they didn't think her capable of, Jane broke free, and lunged at Wanda, gripping her by the head, and staring into her eyes with an intensity that would've frightened most people. Now they could also see that she had a streak of white in her hair above the outside corner of her right eye.

The men came to Wanda's aid, stopping when she shouted, "Don't!"

Standing off to one side, uncertain what to do, Scott just held the injector out of sight, waiting for the word to dart in and pump Jane full of more drugs. Thinking about it made him sick to his stomach, but they had to leave, and soon, and she had to go with them.

Running footsteps approached, stopping at the door. All but Wanda turned to look. Cameron was there, panting from his run. Steve looked past the other man, seeing that he was alone. "Where's Hill?"

The tech came fully into the room, stopping next to Wanda. He nodded at the woman holding tight to the telepath. "Right there."

Stunned, the group turned as one. Natasha reached over Wanda, and brushed the hair out of Jane's face so they could see that the woman truly was Maria Hill.

Clint moved to stand next to Cameron. "If _that's_ Hill, then who's…"

~~O~~

Those who knew Hill searched for clues that matched their memories of the former SHIELD commander. And now that they knew who she was, they could see them.

Hill released Wanda, sat down, and used her hands and feet to back away. When she came up against the wall, she curled into a ball on her side, and squeezed her eyes shut.

Still on her knees, Wanda breathed heavily while she processed everything that Hill had sent her through the link she established. At their first ever meeting after the Ultron incident, Hill had warned her not to go tiptoeing through her mind or she'd shoot her. Wanda never forgot it, and only made cursory peeks, nothing invasive. Now, Hill's actions were those of desperation. She wanted everyone to know who she was, and for them to know that she knew they would eventually come for her.

"Ria."

Scott handed the injector to Sam, who took it out of the room so Hill wouldn't see it, and knelt down next to Wanda. "What's that?"

"I've been seeing someone. She appears in my mind in that time between being awake, and falling asleep. I've seen her at different ages. The only name she gave me was Ria. And another time, someone else was in the vision, and he called her Skates." She nodded at the woman in the corner. "It was her trying to tell me she was here." Scott helped her stand, and she held tight to his hands when he would've let go. "And I didn't understand."

Wanda knew she wasn't responsible for Hill being here, but she felt bad just the same. She needed comfort after the ride through Hill's injured psyche, and she took it from Scott by moving into his arms. He carefully enfolded her in his embrace, not speaking. Just letting her take what she needed.

Though he tried to block it, she could also feel Clint's surge of protectiveness. He moved where she could see him, and she waved a finger in warning. Hands up in surrender, he backed away, and Wanda eased out of Scott's arms.

~~O~~

Steve came to Cameron's side, and he finally looked away from the huddled form that had once been a strong, vital, and intelligent woman that he'd looked up to since the day he came to work for SHIELD. To Steve, he said, "We have to go, sir. And soon. Radio chatter has troops five hours out."

Two furrows appeared between the super-soldier's eyes. "Why so long?"

"There's a storm. We can't feel it this far down, but between us and the base they're taking off from is a storm with hurricane force winds, and gusts up to a hundred plus miles per hour, topping out at around one-thirty-seven."

Clint put himself into the conversation. "We can't use drugs, and she won't let anyone touch her. How do we get her to the quinjet?"

Sam came back at that moment. Without waiting for consent, he slowly walked over to Hill, and crouched near her, yet out of arm's reach, speaking softly, "Commander? Maria? We have to go. Please come with us." He held out his hand, and Hill drew back, shaking her head.

~~O~~

"Let me try."

All heads turned toward Cameron at his request. He watched Steve consult non-verbally with the rest, and together, they moved out into the hall.

Cameron slowly approached Hill, getting down on one knee a few feet away. "I'm not going to hurt you, Commander. We're your friends." He held out his hand, but she shied away, so he let it drop. Moving a little closer, he sat cross-legged on the floor, and just watched her for a while. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he pointed at the door with his chin. They took the hint, and left them alone.

Relaxing his entire body, Cameron lay down on his side with his head propped in his hand. After a short while, Hill copied him, though with her knees bent, ready to curl up in a ball again at the slightest hint of danger. Like an Armadillo.

As though they were two old friends meeting again after years apart, he said, "Remember that week your car was in the shop, and I offered to drive you to and from the boat?" Her eyes darted over his face, and back to his eyes. "You're always so professional, and aloof, walking around the bridge with your hands behind your back, observing, taking everything in, never getting involved in small talk or gossip. Just business. It was always just business. And I get it. You have to maintain a distance between yourself and those under your command. I guess that's why we never talked on the drive, and you always had me drop you off instead of taking you all the way to the apartment.

"The fourth day, that's when I saw you as more than just my boss." He chuckled. "The radio was on, and you were humming along to one of the songs. I started singing, and you surprised the hell out of me when you did too." Her eyes never left his face as he sat up. Hill hesitated a few seconds then she too sat up, keeping her back pressed against the wall, and her knees up.

"Remember the song? It was _Heart of Gold_." Hill tilted her head to the side, thinking. To help her remember, he hummed a few lines. She smiled. He took that as encouragement, and softly sang the words.

 _I want to live,  
I want to give  
I've been a miner  
for a heart of gold  
It's these expressions  
I never give  
That keep me searching  
for a heart of gold  
And I'm getting old_

So softly he could barely hear, Hill began to sing along. Slowly, Cameron got to his knees, and waited for her to do the same.

 _Keeps me searching  
for a heart of gold  
And I'm getting old_

 _I've been to Hollywood  
I've been to Redwood  
I crossed the ocean  
for a heart of gold  
I've been in my mind,  
it's such a fine line  
That keeps me searching  
for a heart of gold  
And I'm getting old_

A few inches at a time, Cameron closed the distance between them. Then, he reached out, and finally, Hill took his hand.

 _Keeps me searching  
for a heart of gold  
And I'm getting old_

 _Keep me searching  
for a heart of gold  
You keep me searching  
And I'm growing old_

Still singing the song, they stood, and she let him lead her out into the hall after the last line. Only Wanda and Natasha were there. "Agent Romanoff, we can't let her be seen like this. Can we give her a shower and get her some clean clothes?"

Looking over his shoulder, Natasha nodded, probably to Steve. "Make it fast. We have to get gone before the storm breaks."

Natasha reached for Hill's hand, but she backed up, shaking her head. Cameron turned her to face him, his hands framing her face. "It's okay…" he hesitated, but only a moment, "…Maria. Natasha and Wanda won't hurt you. Go with them, and I'll get you something clean to wear."

Reluctantly, Hill let the woman take her away. Bringing the Raft's floor plan to mind, he jogged down the hall and around several corners until he came to the supply closet. He chose a top and bottom in midnight blue because he knew she hated pink, and because the thought she looked hot in blue. He grabbed a pair of slippers, and one other item.

By the time he returned, he could hear Wanda speaking to Hill, telling her it was almost over. Cameron knocked, and Natasha opened the door. He handed her the scrubs and slippers, and less than two minutes later, the three of them emerged.

Hill's hair was wet and tangled. With a small smile, he held up a comb, and Hill turned her back so he could comb her hair. The white streak gave him a moment's pause, but he kept going until all the tangles were gone. The comb went into one of his pockets, then held out his hand. And again, Hill took it, allowing him to lead her down the hall toward the lifts. As they turned the corner, she shied away when she saw Steve, Clint, Sam and Scott.

Cameron whispered soothingly to her. "They're friends, Maria. You can trust them. And I'll stay with you."

The lift doors opened, and everyone got on, Hill and Cameron last so she wouldn't feel crowded. She pressed up against him, and he could feel her trembling. He was concerned because he didn't think that the Hill he knew would ever be afraid of anything. What could they have done to her that she ended up here in the first place? And what if she never got better, never returned to the woman she was before? Cameron couldn't bear the thought, so he put it out of his mind for now. When the group reached Operations, Cameron took Hill to a far corner, and urged her to sit in a chair.

"Cam?"

He rushed to Steve's side. "Yes, sir?"

Steve and the others were looking down at the Hill impostor tied up, and unconscious on the floor. "Whoever she is, she's obviously an experienced undercover operative. How did…"

With a sheepish smile, he pulled out a Taser. "I have a few surprises up my sleeve."

They turned as one upon hearing an anguished cry coming from Hill, and saw Wanda standing behind her, one hand on either side of her head, a red mist flowing between her fingertips and Hill's temples. Hill's eyes were rolled back in her head, and her mouth hung open in a silent scream.

Cameron rushed to stop her, halting in place when Wanda growled, "Stay _back_!"

 **TBC**

 _Heart of Gold_ is a song by Canadian singer-songwriter Neil Young, released in 1971.


	13. All the Pain and Grace We Have Known

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **All the Pain and Grace We Have Known**

 **Wakanda**

Standing near the window, Bucky looked out over the landscape, and did his best not to worry about Steve and Natasha, and how their mission was going. If Plan A worked, they would be back in the next few hours. If not…

He heard and felt someone come up next to him.

"Do not worry, my friend. They will return before long." A man in a wheelchair, his right leg below the knee, and right arm gone from just above the elbow, gazed out the window as well, a small smile on his face.

"Doesn't stop the worrying." Bucky turned around to lean on the wall, and extended his hand. "Bucky."

"David." The other man chuckled. "And everyone knows who you and your friends are. My doctor has been bragging that he was the first in the clinic to greet your group when you arrived. He's also kept us apprised of what's been happening."

"Then you know how much trouble I've caused for so many people." Bucky shook his head. "Why do they think that one man is worth all of this?"

David mirrored his pose as best he could, using the chair's control to turn it around. "The real question should be why do you think you _aren't_ worthy?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "The things I've done, people I've killed. I've brought pain, sadness and loss to their families and friends. No amount of penance will ever be enough."

"Most people are as happy as they make their minds up to be." He gestured, and Bucky walked beside him down the long hallway. "We are all imperfect, and wired for struggle. But each of us is also worthy of loving and being loved. Don't let that chance slip away because you are afraid, whether for yourself or another." The tall slender doctor who had done the repairs to Bucky's arm appeared in the hallway. She lifted her chin, and David nodded. "I must go, as I'm being considered for biomechanical limb replacement. I'm glad we finally met, Bucky."

"Me too, David. And thanks."

Bucky watched the other man roll away, thinking about what he said. Why _did_ he think he wasn't worthy? Nothing that happened to him had been his fault. Captured by and experimented on by Nazis, retrieved from a gorge in Europe, and turned into an assassin. He even tried to kill his best friend, and the woman he loves.

"Thinking deep thoughts so close to bedtime will give you bad dreams."

He looked up to see Kaya sitting at her desk in the clinic. Somehow, he'd found his way back to medical where he was staying so the doctors could do more tests. "Already having bad dreams, even when Natasha's here."

"It's understandable, Mr. Barnes." She gestured for him to take the seat facing her. "The friendship and love you have with Natasha and Steven is rare, and valuable."

"Yes, it is. And call me Bucky." He reached over to touch the arm he no longer had, feeling pain that wasn't real. "I-I remember falling from the train. It was going around a curve, and just as Steve reached for me, the pipe broke. My arm was severed on the way down. I was barely alive when Schmidt's men found me, though the fall should've killed me."

Kaya gripped his hand. "You're here now. Try not to think about it." Bucky closed his eyes, and breathed through the memories, his hand still hovering over the missing limb. "What you are feeling is called phantom limb pain, Bucky. Unfortunately, there is no definitive treatment for it."

He liked the way she said his name, drawling out the "e" sound of the second syllable. "Doesn't bother me that much." She looked away with a shy smile. "You like Steve, don't you, Kaya?"

The smile widened, showing that she wasn't embarrassed or ashamed by her interest in the super-soldier. "I do indeed. And he has said that he feels the same. The word he used was 'ditto'." Kaya looked down at the top of her desk, and back to Bucky, the smile fading somewhat. "We come from very different backgrounds, and I believe that's what has kept him from being more forward in his pursuit."

"His what? Oh, yeah. Steve doesn't have much experience dealing with women in romantic situations. Just give him time." The look on Kaya's face said she would be patient, but only up to a point. Bucky stood up. "And if he doesn't make a move, make it yourself. You won't be sorry."

Feeling a little better, Bucky made his way to the room he'd been assigned on the ward, got ready for bed, and laid down, hoping Natasha would be back by the time he woke up. He closed his eyes, and soon was asleep. For once, his dreams were pleasant, if confusing.

In his dream, he and Natasha were out under the stars. He was on his back with her above him, the stars framing her like a glittering headdress. Her waist-length red hair fell forward, tickling his cheeks, neck and bare chest as she traced his dimples and the curves of his mouth with her fingertips.

And after the loving was over, and they'd both been supremely satisfied, they kissed. He waited until she had climbed over the sill, and closed the window to go, glancing over his shoulder one last time before jumping onto the next building, and returning to the aircraft that would take him home.

 **The Raft**

"Whatever you're doing, Wanda, _stop_ ," Clint said using his "dad" voice. Hill's body shook as if she were having seizures; the only thing keeping her in the chair was the death grip she had on the arms.

The red mist's flow increased, the color deepening until it looked like blood. Natasha moved to Clint's side, one of the Taser guns in her left hand. She took a bead on Wanda, glancing at him for confirmation. Reluctantly, he nodded.

Natasha held her fire when Wanda dropped her hands, leaned against the wall, and slid down to sit to the floor. Hill's body shuddered one last time, and she too slumped, but stayed in the chair, her head lolling to the side, and her chest heaving.

Cameron eased over to Hill, crouched in front of her, and gently lifted one of her hands. Her fingers clenched on his almost to the point of pain. He touched her cheek. "Maria?"

Hill's eyes snapped open, and she jumped to her feet, looking around frantically. She relaxed somewhat at seeing her friends standing nearby. Her eyes found Steve's. "You're here."

"Yes, we are." He approached one slow step at a time. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been asleep." Her eyes swept over Steve's longer hair style, and beard. "How long?"

He looked confused, and Clint was too, but he was too busy checking on Wanda to interfere in their conversation.

"How long what?"

She looked down at her clothes, and took a few experimental steps. "How long have I _been_ here?"

Scott stepped forward, holding a thumb drive up. "I can help with that. While I was in medical, I downloaded your medical file, Ms. Hill. Just in case."

Again, Cameron stepped in, firmly correcting the other man. " _Commander_."

"Commander. Sorry. I made a quick perusal, just to get an idea of your condition." No one took the drive, so he shoved it in a pocket. "You were brought here the last week of June two years ago."

Hill walked toward the group, and they parted for her. She dropped into the first chair she came to, which happened to be the one Cameron had taken over when they first arrived. "I have the _worst_ ******* headache." Peeking through her fingers, she said, "Two _years_?"

Sam followed Steve and Natasha to her side. Scott joined them, casting glances at the others before continuing. "Your commitment papers were signed by a man named Gideon Malick. Said he was your step-father. I, uh, I'm pretty sure he's dead now."

Clint could see that it was all too much for Hill, but she would persevere, push on through, and come out the other side, just as she always did.

"I just have one more question, Seeve. I mean Steve. What the _****_ took you so long to find me?"

Her last words were said with more than a touch of anger and resentment. But Clint couldn't worry about that now. Wanda had passed out. He leaned against the wall, pulling her onto his lap.

~~O~~

Sam answered for all of them. "We didn't know you were missing."

Hill sat forward with her elbows on her knees, and head in her hands, fingers rubbing her temples. "How could you not _know_? Someone just up and disappears, and it's business as usual with the Avengers? 'Don't worry about Hill. She'll come home when she's ready.'"

Going down to the next tier, Natasha motioned for Hill to follow. On the floor at her feet was a woman dressed all in black like the others, her wrists and ankles tied. Using her foot, Natasha turned the woman on her back. "We didn't know because Malick, who was HYDRA, by the way, had you replaced with an impostor."

Crouching down next to the imposter, Hill wondered how this woman could've replaced her for two years without anyone getting suspicious. Then she realized that it was her own fault. Even with the people she called friends, she held back a big part of herself, keeping it in reserve, but for what, she couldn't say.

Getting to her feet again, Hill's eyes swept the group. "So who finally outted fake me?" They all turned in the direction of Cameron at the sound of him clearing his throat. He held up a hand, an ironic twist to his lips. Stupefied, and not wanting to show it, Hill nodded. "Good job, Klein."

The tech beamed at the praise. "Thank you, Mari… ma'am."

Glancing over to where Clint was tending to Wanda, Hill asked, "She going to be alright, Barton?"

"What she did for you, it drains her, mentally and physically. She just needs time to bounce back."

An alarm went off, reminding the group that it was past time to go. Cameron rushed to shut it off. "The storm's clearing. Ross's troops are on the move, Cap."

Motioning to the lift, Steve shouted, "Everyone to the quinjet!"

Cameron looked down at the imposter. "What about _her_?"

Hill stepped between Steve and Cameron. "I have an idea."

~~O~~

Whatever Wanda did to fix Hill had taken a great toll. Clint lifted her in his arms, and stood. Natasha asked a question with her eyes, and he responded with a shrug. She called the lift, and everyone but Steve and Hill piled on.

The super-soldier easily picked up the imposter, and carried her the lifts that would take them to the psych ward. Clint had an idea what would happen, but didn't want to spoil the surprise.

Sam peered between the closing doors. "Where're they taking her?"

"Making sure she can't call for help before Ross and his Stormtroopers get here."

The lift came to a stop on the hangar deck. Scott gave the outside of the quinjet a quick once-over, in awe at the technology. "I'd love to fly one of these."

Clint passed him with Wanda, standing at the top of the ramp while Natasha and Sam spread several blankets on the floor. "You're a pilot?"

Scott flashed him a sheepish grin. "Always wanted to learn."

"We can do that. Later. We gotta get this bird in the air." He left Wanda in Scott and Natasha's care, and went forward to speak to T'Challa.

Cameron lagged behind to have a few words with his friend before they left. As long as he made it back by the time Hill and Steve showed up, there wouldn't be a problem.

~~O~~

"Thanks for your help, Pete," Cameron told his friend. "It's a good thing Plan A worked because we didn't have a Plan B."

"No problem." The two friends shared a quick hug. As Cameron headed for the door to the security office, Peter said, "You forgot something."

One hand on the open door, Cameron shook his head. "I can't. Make something up. We forced you to help. Anything."

Peter shook his head. "Won't work, pal. It's gotta be done."

Steve and Hill came jogging down the hall together, stopping at the entrance to the security office. "Something wrong, Cam?" Steve asked.

"No, sir. It's just…"

Crossing his arms, and leaning against the desk, Peter pointed his chin at Cameron. "He's too much of a wimp to hit me so it'll look like I was knocked out too."

Curious, Hill stepped into the office. "Hit you? Why?"

"So no one suspects I hel-"

Rubbing the knuckles of her right hand, Hill looked down at the unconscious man, and sighed. "I feel _so_ much better now."

Steve stuck his head in the door. "We done here?"

"One more thing." Cameron took a CD from one of his pockets, dropped it into the slot provided on the console, and tapped a few commands into the system. "Once we're good and gone, that will reboot the entire security system, leaving no trace that we were here except for the missing prisoners and unconscious personnel. Then the disc will disintegrate." He jogged alongside Hill out to the quinjet. "Where's, uh…"

"Sleeping it off. Anyone know who she works for?"

Steve called out over his shoulder, "One guess: HYDRA."

Natasha came to join them as they all strapped into jump seats. "But you'd be wrong. She's KGB, and a bit of a legend. Deep, deep cover. So deep, she's given plastic surgery each time she takes an assignment, though she's not usually under quite this long, and they usually kill the original."

From beside the cockpit, Clint called out, "My guess is there's some kind of shake-up going on with the KGB, and she hasn't been able to get in touch with her handler until recently."

Mumbling a few choice words under his breath, Cameron cast a glance at Hill, and moved to a seat that faced the front. Clint acted as if he hadn't heard, though T'Challa chuckled.

~~O~~

If Cameron thought changing his seat would save him, Hill mused, he was sadly mistaken. She followed, taking the one next to him, and strapping in. To avoid looking her, he took out a tablet, and pretended to work.

Once they were in the air, Hill took the tablet, and placed it out of his reach. "Talk."

"About what, ma'am?"

The man was a terrible liar. Worse than Steve. "The fake me. There's something you're not telling us. Spill it."

"Um…" The look on his face said he'd rather be almost anywhere other than where he was at the moment. "We, uh… She and I… Well, we were…"

Leaning into the conversation, Sam snorted. "What he's trying _not_ to say is they were sleeping together. The fake Hill and Geek-boy over there."

Cameron's mouth closed with a snap. He swallowed nervously, and wouldn't let his eyes meet hers or Sam's. "How did… I mean… What…"

Clint ambled over, casting a glance at T'Challa then back to Cameron. "Dude! You _slept_ with a KGB agent? Brave man."

Anyone could see that Cameron was annoyed, frustrated, and even a little perturbed with the turn in the conversation, as evidenced by his blurted, "How was I supposed to _know_ she was KGB? Alright? _There_. I said it. Is everyone _happy_?!" He crossed his arms, and huffed, his voice low. "I _thought_ she was…"

"You thought she was me," Hill finished for him.

Reluctantly, he nodded. "Yeah. And when she, uh… I was flattered that someone like her, I mean you, uh…"

The bantering atmosphere vanished in less than a heartbeat when T'Challa announce, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a problem."

Steve unbuckled and went to stand next to Clint, who continued to lurk in the cockpit. Hill joined them on the other side. "Bogies?"

"Not even close, my friends." T'Challa flipped a couple of switches, and a woman's voice filled the cabin.

" _Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is_ _Reveka Pitcura on board the Raft high-security prison at…"_ she rattled off a set of coordinates. _"We've experienced several explosions, and are taking on water. We have twenty-three souls onboard._ "

The distress call repeated until Clint reached over to shut it off. "Klein, could something we did have set off the self-destruct?"

"Absolutely not. Never even touched those programs."

Steve uncrossed his arms, and planted his feet shoulder-width apart. Hill recognized it as his "clearing for action" stance. "We have to help them. How many can we fit on board?"

Clint snorted. "All of them, but we don't have time to backtrack, _and_ hunt them all down. And what if they're trapped below decks? We need another solution."

From the back, a weary voice spoke. "We do." Wanda got to her feet, swaying through a dizzy spell. Scott supported her with an arm around her waist, and she flashed him a tired smile.

As their leader, it was up to Steve to make the decision, though Hill got the sense that Wanda would work her magic with or without his permission.

"You don't have to do this, Wanda. We can figure something out."

"By then it will be too late." Glancing at the ship's controls, Hill saw that T'Challa hadn't waited for a consensus before heading back toward the Raft. "Get as close as you can without endangering the ship, your highness."

The monarch complied with her directive, saying over his shoulder, "Are you certain you're up to it, Ms. Maximoff?"

The telepath glanced at Clint as she moved to the top of the ramp. "It's my job." Scott stayed at her side, one hand poised over the hatch controls. He gave Wanda's hand a squeeze, and hit the control when she nodded.

Wind and rain buffeted the quinjet making it difficult for T'Challa to keep it steady. Clint and Steve moved to Wanda's other side, ready for anything.

~~O~~

Wanda sensed Steve and Clint's presence, and at the same time, she felt the faith the others had in her abilities. It gave her strength to do what she had to, knowing she had their support.

The wind blew the rain into the ship, making the ramp wet and slippery, but she wouldn't be deterred. Closing her eyes so she could focus, Wanda drew on the last of her reserves, cupped her hands, and made a grasping motion at the Raft undulating with the waves.

She opened her eyes as red mist flowed from her fingertips, getting lost in the darkness caused by the omnipresent storm. Raising her arms, she watched the Raft slowly lift out of the water. Over her shoulder, she shouted, "Where should I put it?"

As if he were perusing the offerings at a gift shop, T'Challa remarked, "I have the perfect place. Think you can hold it a few minutes?"

"I will try." Her voice sounded strained, even to herself.

Clint grinned. "That's my girl."

~~O~~

Standing beside Wanda, Scott thought about sending her a mental message of support, though she might not get it, and if she did, it could distract her. And that would be bad.

As if she were lifting a heavy weight, she bent her knees, and grunted with the strain, ignoring the rain and wind. It felt like a long time before Hill called out, "Almost there!"

She didn't bother replying. All her attention was on keeping the enormous structure in the air. Hoping to help somewhat, Scott softly said, "You can do it, Wanda!"

A moment later, she yelped when her prison slippers slipped on the slick surface of the ramp, sending her sliding toward the open hatch.

Scott yelled, "Wanda!" and dived after her on his stomach, his hand closing on her wrist, stopping her from falling off the edge. Clint had done the same, catching her other hand. But their forward momentum didn't stop. Rain and wind lashed all three, as Wanda's feet dangled off the end of the ramp. Scott knew, that as cold as it was, if they fell into the water, they would be dead of hypothermia within minutes. Then suddenly, they jerked to a stop. He looked back, and Steve had a hold of his left ankle and Clint's right.

The super-soldier inched backwards until Natasha, and Hill could help Scott, Clint, and Wanda back into the ship. The telepath immediately turned around, and the red mist shot out of her fingertips to catch the Raft seconds before it hit the water.

The three men stayed close by in case she fell again, and she sent them a mental thanks. This being the first time Scott had experienced her powers in such a personal manner, he inhaled sharply, and exhaled again, muttering under his breath, "Man, that was _weird_."

"Three minutes to base, Ms. Maximoff."

"They're scrambling fighters." Over his shoulder, Clint called out, "We need to drop this thing, and go before they shoot us out of the sky."

Hill's smirk could be heard in her voice as they listened to the chatter from the base. "I don't think they like unexpected guests."

Cameron surprised everyone by quipping, "We should've called first."

Without responding to the banter, Wanda held the Raft steady as T'Challa turned the quinjet so the hatch was facing the shore. "Tell them to clear a place for it."

Into the comm, Clint said, "Your friendly neighborhood Avengers are on approach two-niner-seven north. Clear the runways, boys and girls. We've got a _wide_ load to drop."

Clint chuckled at the stream of curse words coming from the speakers in Ross's voice, responding with, "I've been called worse by my best friend, Mr. Secretary. Just make sure those runways are clear of personnel and vehicles." To Wanda, he said, "Okay, _malenkaya de'votshka_. Set 'er down."

One side of her mouth turned up. " _Da_ , _pápochka_."

As gently as possible in the strong winds, Wanda set the Raft on the runway, and within seconds, hundreds of troops were swarming the area, all armed. They backed away as water drained from the Raft's ballast tanks.

Steve, Clint, Sam, Scott, Wanda, and Natasha stood at the top of the ramp, flipped the troops a mocking salute, and Scott closed the hatch before they could get it into their heads to shoot at them.

" _This is U.S. Secretary of State Ross. You are under arrest for violating the Sokovian Accords, theft of UN property, violating military airspace, kidnapping, aiding and abetting fugitives, instigating a jail break, endangering a minor, corruption of a minor, and a host of other offenses. You are hereby ordered to land on the south runway, shut down your engines, and remain inside your craft to be taken into custody. Do you copy?_ "

Steve came forward to respond to Ross's commands. "No can do, Mr. Secretary. We have a previous engagement." He shut off the comm. "Best speed to Wakanda, please, your highness. And take the scenic route so our friends don't get any ideas about following us."

More tired than she can ever remember being, Wanda swayed on her feet. After the fight with Ultron and his army in Sokovia, she slept for twelve hours, and probably would again today. She took two steps, and passed out.

~~O~~

Scott caught Wanda before she could fall, and carried her to the bed of blankets, but when he tried to put her down, she wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggled closer, refusing to let go. She lay her head on his shoulder so he could feel her warm breath on him, even as they both shivered from the soaking they'd received. They really needed to get out of the wet clothes, but that wouldn't fly with Clint.

Hill saw the two of them shivering, and rushed to arrange the blankets against the bulkhead so he could sit down, which he did, carefully. He motioned, and Hill tucked one of the blankets over both of them.

The body heat that the two of them generated together had a soporific effect, and though he tried hard to stay awake, he too was soon asleep.

 **TBC**

 _Da_ , _Pápochka_ = Yes, Father

 _Malenkaya de'votshka_ = Little girl


	14. My Spirit Longs with Thee to Rest

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

 **Warning:** This chapter has content that is not suitable for anyone under the age of 21. If you're under the age of 21, and read this anyway, I'm telling your mom.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **My Spirit Longs with Thee to Rest**

 **Wakanda**

As they crossed into Wakandan air space, in a streak of protectiveness, Clint purposely woke Wanda by whipping the blanket off. The girl looked at him blearily, as if she weren't sure who he was, or how she'd gotten here. He helped her up from Scott's lap, handed her dry clothes, opened the latrine door, pushed her inside, and closed it again.

Somehow, Scott was still asleep.

When she came out, Clint woke the former thief by hitting him in the face with dry clothes. He jerked awake, and climbed to his feet. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he went into the latrine and shut the door with a click.

Taking Wanda by the hand, Clint led her to a jump seat, and helped her buckle up. She gave him a sleepy smile, and when Scott came out, she perked up even more. Clint's daughter Lila was under the age of ten. He wouldn't need his shotgun for a few years, and though he had the urge to do so with Wanda, she would neither welcome nor allow it. Still…

"We will be landing in just a few minutes. Please take your seats."

When Scott tried to sit next to Wanda, Clint glared and sat down with his arms crossed. As his best friend, Natasha, sitting on Wanda's other side, would know what he was thinking. With a smirk, she unbuckled and stood. "You can have my seat, Scott."

He glanced at Clint, who stared back. "Thanks, Ms. Romanoff."

"Natasha," she tossed over her shoulder as she claimed the empty seat on the port bulkhead next to Steve, deliberately ignoring Clint and the daggers he was shooting in her direction.

Sam had long ago passed out at starboard, buckled in, and arms crossed. Every few seconds, he let out a soft snore.

In the middle, to the right of the cockpit, Hill and Cameron were no longer talking, though Hill was watching the specialist with a contemplative stare, while he turned his back to her. Not that she was doing anything to get his attention. It seemed calculated to make the specialist uncomfortable, and he retaliated by not letting it bother him.

~~O~~

Too tired to care what Clint thought, Wanda took hold of Scott's hand where it lay on this thigh. He flashed her a smile, and squeezed back without letting go. Their age difference didn't bother her as she'd always been attracted to older men. In fact, for a short time, she had a bit of a crush on Clint simply because he treated her so kindly while they were hiding during the battle of Sokovia, and again later. Because her brother had given his life to save Clint and the boy, he felt that it was his duty to take care of her, totally ignoring the fact that the twins had been on their own for years before von Strucker offered them a way to get what they wanted.

Their grief and thirst for revenge against Tony Stark had led them to agree to experimentation that was designed to enhance their latent powers. Wanda's ability to move things with her mind had manifested itself not long after the onset of puberty, though she had little control, and her strength was limited. It annoyed Pietro to no end that his only power had been that he could run really fast, though not nearly the speed he obtained from the Mind Stone.

In moments of bitterness, Wanda often wondered why von Strucker had chosen to enhance that ability in her brother, instead of giving him one that would serve him better, like the ability to heal quickly, or imperviousness. If that had been the case, he would still be with her, and none of the appalling events that followed would have happened.

The quinjet landed. Steve opened the hatch as they unbuckled and stood up, stretching and yawning. T'Challa came around to the ramp, glanced left and right, and walked down to be greeted by Imani and her squad of Dora Milaje, a pool of superior Wakandan women who were the personal bodyguards and royal security to the king, and are recruited from every tribe in Wakanda.

Imani inclined her head in greeting, scowling as her eyes met Natasha's from where she stood behind T'Challa.

He nodded over his shoulder. "As you can see, we have more guests. See that their wounds are attended, and assign rooms on the residential floors so they may rest. I will join them for dinner tonight."

"As you wish, your highness." T'Challa exited the area through a hidden door that Wanda guessed must lead to the palace. The woman called Imani gestured, and two women came forward. "They will see to your needs."

Steve pushed the sleeves of his black shirt up over his forearms. "I can show them the way. We all need showers, and clean clothes." Hill nudged him with her elbow. "And if we could get a snack to keep us until dinner, that would be great."

"Of course, Captain Rogers." She moved no more than a finger, and the women backed off.

 **The Clinic**

The jailbirds followed Steve to the lift, and out on the clinic level to the nurse's station. "If Dr. Hawa isn't busy, could I speak to her, please?"

The nurse smiled, and nodded over Steve's shoulder. At the grin on Steve's face, his companions all turned in that direction. Pretending disinterest, Clint gave the woman a quick perusal. Five-five at the most, slim, early thirties, intelligent, and crazy about Steve. Their leader felt the same way, to go by the spark in his eyes at seeing her.

"Introduce me to your friends, Steven."

Clint appreciated the African lilt to her soft, yet strong voice. She was a force to be reckoned with, if he was any judge of character, and he was. He nodded when Steve introduced him. "Pleasure, ma'am."

"Please, call me Kaya."

At that point, Clint noticed that Scott and Wanda were standing close together, and squeezed in between them, meeting Scott's annoyance with smug half-grin. The former thief backed off, trailing behind until they reached the exam area.

Clint sat next to Wanda, with Cameron on the other side. Hill sat between Sam and Scott on the bench across from them. Wanda yawned, and leaned against him, and by the time the nurse had prepared the rooms, she was nearly asleep. He nudged her and stood, taking her hand. At the door, he sent her into the room, and the nurse was there, motioning him next door. Scrubs lay on the exam table, and Clint was relieved to be rid of the prison clothes.

He'd just pulled the shirt down over his stomach when he heard Wanda calling out, " _No! Don't touch me! Stay away_."

The most disconcerting thing was hearing it with his ears, and inside his head. Clint darted into the hall, pushing through the group to Wanda's room. He was stopped at the door by the nurse. "She is refusing to allow the doctor to examine her."

"What _kind_ of exam?"

The nurse looked uncomfortable, her eyes darting over the concerned faces staring at her with a mixture of emotions. "It is our policy to perform tests necessary to determine if she has been… assaulted."

Rolling his eyes, Clint gave the woman a mild form of his death glare. "Did you _ask_ her if anything like that happened?"

"No. But she was the only woman in the prison, and we assumed…"

Hill elbowed her way to Clint's side. "Well, don't. _I_ was there too. Only the female guards are permitted to attend to the female prisoners. The male guards wouldn't have been given a chance to assault her."

Clint added his voice. "Let it go for now. I'll have a talk with her later."

Again, the woman's eyes darted over Clint's shoulder, this time to Steve. She nodded, went into the room, and closed the door.

Sometime later, once the five from the Raft had been poked, prodded, and had blood, and other fluids taken while their companion's wounds were treated, they were fed a snack to hold them until the evening meal. Afterward, one of the guards, another woman whose outward bearing and countenance was similar to Imani's appeared to show them to their rooms. The group waited for her to leave to talk.

Sam crossed his arms, and shifted his feet. "Do we just pick a room?"

To get the ball rolling, Hill pointed at the door farthest from the lifts. "That's mine. Call me when dinner's ready." The door slammed on her last word.

Steve, Natasha, and Bucky all had their own rooms as indicated by a small digital display beside the door with their names. Though, to go by Natasha's smirk, she and Bucky probably didn't often sleep apart. And sure enough, she knocked, and let herself into his room.

Clint waited for Wanda to choose, and took the one closest to her so he could hear if she called out at night. To his annoyance, Scott co-opted the room directly across from Wanda's while Sam settled for the one next to Scott. Cameron took the last one, though he didn't seem happy that it was directly across from Hill.

Everyone went into their rooms, and shut the doors.

~~O~~

Now that she was finally alone, Hill went into the bathroom for the first real look at herself since the Raft. Her hair, usually kept above her shoulders, was to the middle of her back. She ran her fingers through it, paying special attention to the white streak on the right. The part would go through the middle of it. The texture of her hair didn't suit her at all. She'd been almost fanatical about keeping her hair clean and well-conditioned. But as tired as she was, and they still had to put in an appearance with the king, it would have to wait. Morning was soon enough to decide if she wanted to color the white or leave it.

She didn't remember much of anything that happened before Wanda jump started her brain, certainly not how she got to the Raft in the first place, or why she'd been in a padded room. Insanity didn't run in her family, nor had she exhibited mental illness prior to…

The last event she could clearly recall was applying for a position with Stark Industries. She passed the polygraph, drug test, and background checks easily, thanks to her training as a spy. Tony had given her a Junior VP position with New Projects.

Turning on the cold water, Hill splashed her face, and ran her wet hands through her hair. She turned the water off, grabbed a hand towel to dry with as she returned to the bedroom, and lay down, waking with a start when someone knocked on her door three hours later.

" _Dinner time, Hill_ ," Clint's voice called out.

"Yeah, okay. Gimme five."

The dresser held a variety of women's underclothing still in the packages, and in the closet, she found women's clothing in several sizes and styles. She grabbed a top and pants that sort of matched, and put on a pair of sneakers she took from the drawer.

Hill stepped into the hall at the same time Cameron exited his room. He glanced at her and away. His embarrassment could only come from the fact that he'd slept with a KGB agent whom he thought was her. Did that mean he'd been attracted to her all the years they've worked together, or did the imposter seduce him into their relationship? The likelihood that he'd tell her the truth was small. However, if she used Natasha's method of interrogation…

That thought was discarded almost before it was formed. Dishonesty would not serve her well with someone who had risked not only his job, and his livelihood to save her and the others, but his life.

Cameron had a family, an adopted mother and father. And Hill was probably one of the few who knew more about him than he knew about himself. Secrets that wouldn't be a problem for Cameron, though if made known would cause great concern for someone who wielded power within the US government.

She also knew that he'd overcome a debilitating illness to get where he was today. There was a possibility that it could recur, but he didn't let that stop him from living his life. The thought brought her to an epiphany of sorts concerning how she could've been gone for more than two years without anyone catching on. She didn't let people close, didn't allow them know her well enough to see the real Maria Hill. Chances are her own father didn't even know she'd been gone. They hadn't talked in nearly twenty years.

 _Have to do something about that, and soon_.

Cameron avoided her gaze, and fell into step behind the others. Hill, who seldom did anything on impulse, decided that today, she would break with tradition. She sped up next to Cameron, and wrapped her fingers around his arm just below the bicep. He jumped, and looked at her with wide eyes, almost as if he thought she were going to kill him. Hill smiled when their shoulders brushed against each other, and finally Cameron relaxed.

At one point in their trek to the dining room, he laid his free hand over hers where it gripped his arm, lightly caressing her fingers. Then he remembered they didn't have an intimate relationship, and the hand was removed.

In the dining room, Cameron held her chair. Embarrassed or not, he was the type of man who would always be a gentleman. Hill pictured him holding an umbrella over her head in the rain, even though they weren't exactly speaking. Of course, if the woman was trying to kill him or his family, friends, teammates, or innocent bystanders, then all bets were off.

She scooted her chair in, slid the napkin from under the silverware, and draped it over her lap. His eyes roamed over the choices for seats, deciding to take the one to her left. Her stomach growled, and she pressed a hand to it, hoping no one had heard. Then she felt someone watching her, and looked up into Cameron's brown eyes, twinkling with humor. He pressed his lips together, and hid a grin by pretending to rub the end of his nose. Hill looked away to keep from laughing, catching Sam watching them. With an expression that was anything but innocent, Sam took a drink of water, and returned the glass to its place in the setting.

T'Challa came in a short time later, gracefully seating himself at the head of the table. In a true showing of noblesse oblige, their host had also dressed casually, though Hill got the sense that he often just chilled out in the evenings after a long day of ruling the country. And that led her to wonder if his father was out of the country, in a meeting with heads of state, or wasn't up to guests.

The second course, Moroccan Tagine, made with Wakandan vegetables, and served over couscous was brought in by the staff. Again, Hill's stomach growled, though with less volume than before. The meal was accompanied by cheesy pull-apart rolls with butter, which she used to soak up the broth.

Glancing over at Cameron, Hill noticed that his serving looked different than the rest in that it didn't have chicken. She used to elbow to knock one of the forks to the floor. Cameron reached for it at the same time she did, bringing their heads close together. "Don't you like chicken, Klein?"

"I'm a vegetarian." At her startled glance, he said, "I guess you don't know everything about me."

To hide her surprise, Hill turned to T'Challa. "Pardon me for asking, your highness, but why didn't King T'Chakka join us?"

All conversation stopped, telling Hill she'd made a major _faux pas_ , etiquette-wise regarding dinner conversation, confirmed when Cameron touched her on the hand under the table, giving her a slight head shake.

"My father was killed several weeks ago in Berlin."

More embarrassed than at any other time in her life, Hill looked down at her plate. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Do not trouble yourself, Ms. Hill. You were imprisoned for more than two years. There's no way you could've known."

She adjusted the napkin in her lap, and looked him in the eye. "Still, I'm sorry for your loss."

He nodded once in acceptance of her sympathy as a young man circled the table, refilling the wine glasses. "I often eat alone. It is a pleasant change to have company. Please continue with your story, Mr. Lang. What happened after Hope Van Dyne had you arrested?"

 **That Night**

T'Challa invited Steve, Natasha and Bucky to a meeting with several of the doctors, after which, the monarch left them alone to talk over the information that had been presented.

Seldom one to keep her opinions to herself, Natasha took Bucky's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Your idea has merit."

"I know. It's just…"

Steve clapped a hand on Bucky's shoulder, and smiled. "I'm with you, Buck. Whatever you decide."

The couple followed him out, Natasha speaking for both of them. "Let's just sleep on it, and see how you feel in the morning, _malenkii_."

Bucky nodded, and let Natasha lead him away. For several weeks now, Steve had watched his best friend turn to someone else for comfort, and advice. He wasn't upset, exactly. Well, yeah. He sorta was.

Hands in his pockets, he walked aimlessly through the building, randomly taking the stairs, and walking some more. Or at least he thought his actions were random until he found himself at the clinic looking for Kaya. Though it was late, he approached the nurse, but before he could say a word, she pointed down the hall. "She's checking on the patient in room five."

With a nod of thanks, Steve located room five. The door was shut, and to him that indicated a wish not to be disturbed. He leaned against the opposite wall, hands in his pockets, and ankles crossed.

After a while, he pushed off the wall, pacing down to room one and back to five without paying attention to the staff coming and going, until Kaya touched him on the arm.

"I thought you would be spending the evening with T'Challa."

"We had dinner, and a short meeting with the doctors regarding Bucky."

Her hand slipped down to hold onto his. "We're doing everything we can for your friend." She shook her head as Steve tucked her hand around the bottom of his bicep, and he let her lead him down the hall. "Have you spoken to him regarding his options?"

Steve chuckled humorlessly. "These days, he prefers to take Nat into his confidence instead of me."

"This relationship that Mr. Barnes has with Ms. Romanoff is still new, and somewhat exciting for them both. I'm not saying that the spark will go out, but soon, they will remember that there are others to whom they can turn for comfort, and advice. Just give him time." They stopped in front of a locked door. "I need to collect a few supplies."

Kaya scanned her badge, and stepped inside, leaving the door cracked a few inches. He listened to her moving around, and had a vision of them sharing a home, and how comforting the sounds of a loved one from another room could be. For the first time since they'd returned from the Raft, he began to feel like he wouldn't have to keep looking over his shoulder forever.

"Steven?" He rushed to Kaya's aide, finding nothing wrong when he opened the door. On one of the shelves sat a box filled with all sorts of medical supplies in hermetically sealed packages. "The step ladder is gone, and I need a few items from the top shelf. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all." Steve took down the items she requested, handing them to her to stack in the box. He grabbed the last one just as he heard a click. Over his shoulder, he saw Kaya standing with her back to the closed door, smiling. "It's difficult to find a place in the clinic where two people can be alone as most of the interior and exterior is monitored."

Steve placed the last package on top of the others in the box, and faced Kaya. They were only separated by a few feet, but it seemed like so much more until he could touch her.

Kaya gripped his arms below the biceps, slowly moving up to his shoulders while he closed his hands around her narrow waist, sliding up to the bottom of her ribs. He tightened his grip, pulling her closer as she tilted her head back. He accepted her invitation, and lowered his mouth to hers.

And just like that day in the lift, the moment their lips touched, Steve felt the spark she'd created inside him building to a flame as her hands wrapped around his neck to urge him closer.

Their bodies touched all along the front. He swallowed a gasp, and knew that Kaya had felt his excitement building, and had reacted to the feel of him moving against her stomach. In return, he drove her against the wall, needing her supple body hard against his, and the press of those full, firm breasts against his chest. She wedged her knee between his, and he returned the favor.

Admittedly, his experience with this aspect of a romantic relationship was limited to the night before he'd been changed by Dr. Erskine. But he couldn't think about that now, couldn't think about her. Not while he and Kaya were making their first real push toward being fully intimate. But this closet was neither the time nor the place for it. A woman like her deserved more than to be taken in a closet filled with gauze, and tape, and syringes.

Kaya deserved romantic dinners, moonlight strolls, and dancing before they went to bed together. That thought fled, along with every other in his head when she yanked his shirt from his pants, and her hands rubbed up under it over the muscles of his chest. But she didn't stop there.

~~O~~

While their mouths and tongues battled, Kaya came to a decision that would forever change hers and Steve's relationship, sending it soaring to a higher level. Kaya pulled his hands from under the edge of her top so she could remove her white coat. It fell to the floor in a jangle of keys, and the stethoscope she kept in the right pocket. By then, she had hold of the bottom edge of his shirt, and was lifting it until he had to raise his arms.

"Kaya, what're you…"

She stopped him with a hard, and fiery kiss, and backing off just enough to whisper a demand, "I must have you, Steven. _Now_!"

He finished the job of removing the shirt, leaving him bare chested. And to her delight, Steve then put his nimble fingers to work on the buttons of her top. While he did that, she traced the muscles of his upper abdomen, and chest, loving the play of firm skin, and the light dusting of hair through the middle.

The front of her top parted, and he just stood there, wide-eyed at seeing her favorite purple lace and satin bra with the front closure. "Wow."

They kissed again, and he turned slightly to the side so he could trace one finger along the upper edge, down in the middle, and over the other side. His touch fanned the flame of her desire into an inferno that threatened to consume her here and now.

Kaya's hand flew to the waist of Steve's pants, opened the belt buckle, and pushed the button through the hole it revealed. She grasped the tab of the zipper, and drew it down to the bottom at the same time she felt him grasp the closure on the front of her bra between finger and thumb.

Their mouths and tongues engaged once more, as Kaya slid her hands beneath the loosened material of his pants to push them off his hips.

 **TBC**


	15. The Sweetest of All Sounds

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **The Sweetest of All Sounds**

Wanda came out of the bathroom wearing pajama shorts and a t-shirt, yawning as she twisted her hair into a long braid and put a tie over the end. She pulled back the covers, and fluffed the pillow, dropping it in place at the knock on her door.

" _Wanda? You awake?_ " Clint's voice held a note of concern that stopped short of true worry.

For a moment, Wanda thought about pretending to be asleep so she wouldn't have to speak to him, because then she might say something she'd later regret regarding the way he'd been treating Scott. Clint didn't care for the interest Scott had been showing in her, and didn't seem to be aware that it started even before the Raft. She grinned to herself. The feeling had been there from the moment Scott said, "I know you too. You're great."

Clint was now determined to put a stop to any sort of familiarity between them. But was he being over-protective, or just an ass? With him, it could go either way, or be a combination. An over-protective ass.

"Come in," she called out as she sat on the side of the bed. He stepped inside, seeming to debate if he should close the door or leave it open in order to prevent rumors. The door was left ajar.

"How you doing?"

Her slippers hit the floor, and she lay down, covering a yawn. Clint came to pull the covers over her. "Tired, as you might expect." Her eyelids drooped. "Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not a child. I don't need tucking in, but I would love for you to read to me."

With a grin, he held up a children's book, _How the Grinch Stole Christmas!_ written in French. He pulled a chair over, sat down, and opened to the first page. "It's all I could find."

She chuckled lightly. "It's fine. I love the sound of your voice. It reminds me of my father."

Scowling with a mock insulted glare, he declared, "Hey! I'm not _that_ old."

"Yet you treat me like a child. Like _your_ child."

Clint shrugged, and gave her hand a squeeze where it lay on top of the covers. "Drop it, okay? Now close your eyes." He cleared his throat. " _Chaque qui down in Whoville séjour de noël beaucoup…_ "

"In English please. I like the silly way it rhymes."

Without commenting, Clint did as she asked.

"Every Who down in Whoville like Christmas a lot.

But the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, did _not_!

The Grinch hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!

Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.

It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right.

It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.

But I think that the most likely reason of all,

May have been that his heart was two sizes too small…"

~~O~~

Cuddling Natasha close, Bucky whispered, " _Lyubimaya_?"

"Hmm?"

"I've been reading about current dating rules. Do men and women _really_ talk about their, uh, the people they were intimate with before they met?"

She shifted around so she could touch his cheek. "Some do. Some don't. If you want to know, just ask." Natasha's hand had relaxed on his jaw, telling him she was nearly asleep.

"Who was your first?"

He felt her chest expand as she yawned. "You."

Just for a moment, Bucky felt a mixture of surprise and confusion. By her actions, he could tell that she had experience, though she wasn't promiscuous. "You were a virgin in Bucharest?"

Her body stiffened slightly at his question. "I… No. Does it matter?"

Bucky sensed that her mood had changed, and he wasn't certain if it was the topic, or her response to his somewhat innocent question. " _Nyet_. I was just curious. Want to know who _my_ first was?"

"Sure." Her voice had taken on that warm, soft tone of one who would be asleep within seconds.

"Mary Louise Sorrentino. She was twenty-one, and I was seventeen." Again, she shifted against his side, but this time it felt different, as if the sleepiness was going away.

"Average age for men. Now go to sleep."

Holding her close, he rested his cheek on the top of her head, and closed his eyes.

~~O~~

Taking care not to wake Bucky, Natasha got out of bed, gathered up her clothes and shoes, and let herself out. She didn't know why, but Bucky's question, innocently asked, had disturbed her more than she let on. Their first intimate encounter had been in Bucharest; of that she was certain. She remembered her first time with a man occurring at the age of eighteen, _after_ she'd left the Red Room. His name had _not_ been Bucky or James, or any similar sounding name. Why then had she said _he_ had been her first, and why had her memory churned up an image of them together while she was still at the 2R facility that didn't include sparring?

"Trouble in paradise?"

Natasha leaned against the wall next to her room, the clothes held against her chest in a defensive posture. "Restless, and don't want to keep him up." She pointed her chin at Wanda's now closed door. "Playing Papa to your new Barton lamb?"

"She's twenty-one. Doesn't need parents monitoring her every move. Laura still wants her to legally be a part of the family." He held up the book with a sheepish grin, letting her see the cover. "Indoctrinating her into the Barton family bedtime routine." Covering a yawn with his fist, Clint used the other hand to open his door. "'Night."

"Clint?"

"Yeah?"

How to word what she wanted to say when she wasn't sure what her mind was telling her? "Have you ever had dreams that seem more like forgotten memories, but they can't be because what you're remembering never happened?"

Her best friend looked at her with mild confusion, as if she'd spoken in a language he was only partially familiar with. "What's going on, _mladshaya sestra_?"

Natasha took a deep breath, and let it out. "I don't know. I've had the urge to visit Alexei's grave, provided it still exists."

"Why?" One shoulder went up and down. "Want me to go along to provide best friend support?"

"Russia signed the Accords. We'd both need new identities. Best if I go alone."

Clint held the book in front of him. "What about your parents' graves? You should visit them too."

One side of her mouth turned up in a rueful grin. "A girl can only take so much emotional introspection at one time, and I've already had more than my share."

His grin matched hers as he pulled her into a one-armed hug, and kissed her temple. "You thrive on it, Nat. _Spokoynoy nochi_." His arm disappeared, and a moment later, the door closed.

Instead of lying down, where she'd likely be awake the rest of the night, Natasha, changed into workout clothes, grabbed a towel, and made her way down to the gym. The distinctive sounds of someone involved in an intense workout reached her as she got close. She peeked in the window, seeing T'Challa working out. He stopped to get a drink, and she invited herself into his presence.

"Impressive, your highness."

He came toward her, wiping the sweat from his face and bare chest. "Thank you, Ms. Romanoff." With a nod, he invited her to sit with him. "What brings you here this late at night?"

"Too much on my mind." She crossed one leg over the other. "What about you?"

"I prefer the solitude of the night." T'Challa leaned back in his chair, still watching her with that contemplative stare. "Not to mention that there are few who challenge me physically."

Her grin was back. "Go a few rounds with Rogers."

"We have sparred on several occasions, not counting Berlin, and the day Mr. Barnes was taken into custody." Natasha breathed deeply in an attempt to calm her mind. It wasn't working. T'Challa interrupted her thoughts that had once again strayed off the path she preferred. "I would spar with Mr. Barnes, if he wished, but he avoids me unless it can't be helped."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

T'Challa nodded. "Indeed I have."

Natasha stood and walked the few feet to the weigh rack, running her finger over the fifty-pound weights. "When Bucky told you he didn't kill your father, and you asked why he ran." Her mouth turned up in a wry smile, "He told me he ran because you were chasing him."

The monarch chuckled. "And I chased him because he ran. To a mind filled with the grief over a devastating loss, it said he was guilty. Had I been thinking straight, I might have seen what was in front of me. What was in front of _all_ of us."

"Bucky believes that seeing him everyday forces you to relive your father's death over and over."

"Were he guilty, that would be true."

She tossed her towel on a chair, and went into her stretching routine. "If he were guilty, he'd be in a Wakandan prison."

T'Challa got to his feet. "Would _you_ care to go a few rounds, Ms. Romanoff?"

"Only if you call me Natasha, your highness."

"Agreed."

Together, they moved out onto the mat, saluted, and engaged. It didn't take long to see that he was going easy on her. He trapped her in a choke hold. She tapped out, and he released her. They moved in a circle, not taking their eyes off each other. "Might I ask a favor, your highness?"

"If it is within my power to grant it, then please do."

"I need to take a trip, but my friends can't immediately know I've gone. They'll want to go with me, but it's something I need to do on my own."

Natasha attacked, T'Challa blocking each blow before it found its mark. "That is not a problem. Will you have need of a pilot? I could send Imani as your escort."

"She and I don't exactly see eye to eye." The king snorted a laugh, and she grinned. "No pun intended. I just need a pilot. The rest I can do myself."

"As you wish, Natasha."

~~O~~

Most nights, Bucky's dreams were unpleasant, his remorse for the lives he'd taken forcing him to relive each and every one. As long as Natasha was nearby, he could handle almost anything. However, tonight's dreams were different.

Instead of death and destruction, he dreamt of making love with a young woman. Her features were smooth and the glow of innocence was on her cheeks. Green eyes sparkled in the light of the moon as they brought each other to completion. Her long red hair stuck to the sweat on her face, generated by their combined passion. He held her close, feeling her warm breath whispering over his neck, and her firm breasts pressing into his chest as they waited for their breathing to return to normal.

The night sky of Stalingrad twinkled with stars…

Even the dream Bucky knew something was wrong with the scene. As the Asset, he had not been programmed to form relationships with others. The mission was all that mattered.

 _Sanction, and extract. No witnesses_.

He certainly hadn't been programmed to be intimate with a woman. Or in this case, a girl who was just becoming a young woman. She couldn't have been more than fifteen at most.

And if it _had_ happened, could he now be prosecuted by the Russian authorities for having relations with someone who was underage?

The dream Bucky helped the young woman dress then dressed himself. And as always, he waited until she'd gone in through the window and closed it to leave.

He returned to the craft that would take him back to the base, and didn't protest when he was put into the chair. He screamed at the first jolt of electricity as all his muscles contracted to the point of incredible pain.

~~O~~

Bucky bolted upright in bed, surprised to find that it was morning. He reached for Natasha, but she wasn't there. He thought of going to look for her, but decided against it. She'd come back eventually.

Leaning against the headboard, he rubbed his eyes and yawned, confused by the first part of the dream. The second part, well that was SOP, as they said in the Army. Standard Operating Procedure after a mission.

The man with the book, Karpov, stood by, watching without emotion as Bucky was tortured over and over again. If he knew where Karpov was, he'd gladly see to it that the man paid dearly for his crimes. Chances were, he'd died long ago. The thought that the man who had spent decades torturing him and forcing him to kill was dead lifted his spirits somewhat.

He went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, drying while examining himself in the mirror. All the time he'd been the Winter Soldier, nothing had been done regarding hygiene, except for the occasional shower and washing his hair.

When he broke free from HYDRA, he'd taken time to let his body heal before moving on. And the first thing he'd done was steal clothes that were less conspicuous than the black leather, and money so he could eat. The first real solid food he'd eaten had made him sick to his stomach. He'd taken it slow from then on. And when he found a way to make money on his own, he'd returned what he'd stolen.

Bucky also discovered that he had a storehouse of knowledge of this century's technology that allowed him to blend in even more. Once he settled in Romania, he'd cut his hair, and shaved. However, without it, he felt exposed, conspicuous, and had let it all grow back.

As his memories returned, he spent his spare time writing in notebooks, and clipping photos that helped him recall events from his past. These notebooks were kept in a backpack under the floorboards of whatever place he happened to call home at the moment. He had several notebooks specifically about Steve, one of which stayed on the refrigerator or by the bed for when he recalled something new. When he fled the apartment, it was the one item he regretted leaving behind.

He took clothes from the closet, got dressed, and went down the hall to knock on Steve's door. There was no answer, so he knocked again. Bucky was about to knock a third time when he heard a voice from the past.

"Help you with something, sir?"

Every muscle in Bucky's body tensed up. He took a moment to school his features, and turned. To his relief, the man standing a few feet away wasn't Colonel Karpov. In fact, the men shared few similar features aside from basic skin color. Bucky recognized him as one of those who'd helped break Sam, Clint, Wanda and Scott out of prison.

"Are you alright, Mr. Barnes?"

Unlike Karpov, this man expressed sincere concern. However, his voice, though he spoke English, could have been a duplicate of Karpov's. To set his mind at ease, Bucky attempted a smile. Without thinking, he responded to the man in Russian, assuring him he was fine. " _Khorosho. Spasibo_."

" _Vy ishchete_ , _Kapitan_ Rogers?"

For just a moment, Bucky wanted to run, to get away from the other man because, now that he was speaking Russian, he sounded like Karpov more than before, but without the edge of disdain, and non-emotion. " _Da_." He switched to English. "Have you seen him?"

"Not since last night, sir."

"Thank you, um, I'm sorry. I don't know your name."

The man looked embarrassed. "Cameron Klein, sir. You can call me Cam."

Bucky relaxed though he was a little confused. "Klein? You're German?"

"Uh, no, sir. My great-grandparents emigrated from Russia to Germany, and changed their name from Klimov to Klein. They moved to the US when my maternal grandfather was small. We've always spoken Russian, German, and English at home."

" _Sprechen sie Deutsch?_ "

Cameron seemed to find his question amusing, as if he thought Bucky was testing him. " _Ja_ ," he said with a shrug and a smile. Still in German, he added, "My parents have always said that one language is never enough."

Bucky followed his lead, also speaking German. "True. It's nice to meet to finally meet you, Cam."

They shook hands. "And you, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky started walking, and Cameron fell in beside him. They switched back to English. "Call me Bucky. I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

~~O~~

When Bucky and Cameron had turned the corner out of sight, Steve's door opened just far enough that he could see the hall was empty. Relieved, he opened the door and stepped out. "They're gone."

Kaya peeked out before joining him, and together they headed for the lift. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him. At the lift doors, Kaya turned her face up for a kiss.

"Kaya, you're not embarrassed by, uh…"

Her sheepish grin was so endearing. "Oh course not, Steven. It was _my_ idea."

He chuckled. "True. Breakfast?"

She touched his chest, shaking her head. "My shift starts in ten minutes, and I am never late."

Steve pulled her fully into his arms. "Dinner then. We'll go out."

"I would like that very much."

They kissed once more, and Steve felt not only his own passion building again, but hers as well. The lift dinged, and Kaya stepped in, reluctant to be separated from him as much as he was from her. They held hands as long as possible then Steve reached in to hit the button for her floor, giving Kaya a short wave as the doors closed.

Sighing happily, Steve turned around at the sound of a throat being cleared, and found Hill standing behind him, one eyebrow raised, and just a trace of a smirk on her lips. Without a word, she walked past him to call for the lift. When it arrived, she stepped inside, holding the door with one hand. "You coming or not, Rogers?"

Embarrassed at being caught saying good-bye to the woman he'd spent the night with, Steve hesitated.

Hill sighed, and chose a floor. "Suit yourself."

Steve stuck his hand between the doors before they could close. They opened, and he got on, hands clasped in front of him. Just as they closed, Hill started humming then singing.

 _Gimme all your lovin'_ _  
_ _All your hugs and kisses too_ _  
_ _Gimme all your lovin'_ _  
_ _Don't let up until we're through…_

And Steve said the first thing that came to mind. "Maybe you'd like it back in your _cell_ , your highness."

Both eyebrows inched up her forehead. "Listen to _you_ , making cultural references, Rogers. You _rock_."

Steve couldn't help it. The night he spent with Kaya had been gloriously filled with love and passion that he probably wouldn't come down off the cloud he was floating on for hours. He rocked forward and back, and one side of his mouth turned up in a proud smirk. "I _know_."

~~O~~

Teasing Steve was too much fun, though his comment about the cell was a tad hurtful, considering what she'd been through the last two years. Making a scene was too much trouble this morning, so Hill let it drop.

As they entered the dining room, Hill heard laughter in several tones, coming from a table to her right. Barnes, Cameron, and a woman were sitting together, talking and laughing. From where they were standing, the woman and Cameron were doing most of the talking… and the laughing.

Steve touched her on the arm. "Maria?"

She followed Steve to an empty table, and sat down, still not taking her eyes from the trio near the window. "What d'you think they're talking about?"

"Don't know. Want to ask if we can join them?"

"This is fine."

Steve leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and sniffed the air. "Something smells good."

A snort came out before Hill could stop it. "It _all_ smells good."

"Try the, uh…" he snapped his fingers, "Chakchouka. It's the African version of Huevos Rancheros."

~~O~~

Steve shook his head as a burst of laughter from the other table caught Hill's attention again. He had to give it to Cameron for moving on to another relationship so quickly. Though, to him, their body language said they'd known each other for a while.

"That's fine."

"It's really good with Chapati, East African bread."

"Mm-hmm."

To see if she was listening, Steve said, "I'll get us some jet fuel to go with it."

Now Hill was leaning to the right, craning her neck, and her eyes narrowing when Cameron took the woman's hand, and leaned close as of to whisper in her ear, making her laugh again. "Whatever you want."

Steve grabbed her hand and gave her a shake. "Maria!" She finally looked at him. "Are you jealous that Cam has someone new?"

"Jealous? Why would I be? It's just a little soon for him to be in another relationship, don't you think? He barely knows her."

Getting to his feet, Steve shook his head again. "It's _his_ decision, Maria. I'll go get our food."

He'd only gone a few steps when Hill called out, "And don't forget the jet fuel. I like mine with a little WD-40."

~~O~~

On the way to the food line, Steve purposely passed the table, making sure that Bucky and Cameron saw him. Bucky nodded a greeting.

Cameron saw him glance at the woman, and stood. "Captain Steve Rogers, this is my friend, Sanura Magoro. We met while I was doing relief work a few years ago."

She laid her napkin in her lap, and gave Steve a bright smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Rogers. We've heard so much about you from Scotty."

The woman was in her late twenties, with curly medium brown hair that stopped short of being frizzy, held back from her face by a headband, light brown eyes, and skin a shade or two darker than Kaya's. She picked up her napkin, scooted back from the table, and stood to shake his hand so that he could now see all of her. The change in her appearance surprised him, making it difficult to keep from staring. "Scotty?"

Sanura glanced at Cameron, and back to Steve. "The name Cameron is of Scottish origin, so Scotty."

Cameron nudged her with his elbow. "And I call _her_ Kitten."

Easy enough to guess that the meaning of Sanura was kitten. "Pleased to meet you, Sanura." He gestured to where Hill was now looking out the window. "I was about to get breakfast. Talk to you later, Cam?"

"Sure."

Steve waited for Sanura to resume her seat to continue on his way, bringing up a mental picture of Hill's face when she met Cameron's friend.

~~O~~

The shower shut off, and Natasha came out of the bathroom with a towel around her, and rubbing her hair with another. Her mind went back to Alexei, their marriage that ended after one short month, and her year-long tour with the ballet company.

After leaving the gym, she returned to her room to do some research, but was unable to find any mention of Alexei Shostakov, or the group with which she'd toured, The Anna Pavlova Ballet Company. The only mentions she could find were for Anna Pavlova and her status as one of the most celebrated dancers of her time. Nothing was said about a ballet company with her name.

After dressing, Natasha went in search of Bucky. It was time for him to make a decision about his future. Such a decision would affect her, Steve, and their friends, who would naturally want to do what was best for _him_.

She found Bucky in the dining room sitting with Cameron and a young woman. The tech was speaking what sounded like Wakandan.

"May I join you?"

Bucky and Cameron stood, and without consulting the others, Cameron dragged another chair over, holding it for her. "Would you like something to eat or drink, Ms. Romanoff?"

"Yes, thank you. Black coffee." When he'd gone, Natasha held Bucky's hand, and smiled at the young woman. "I'm Natasha."

"Sanura. Cameron and I met in a relief program a few years back. He taught me English, and I taught him Wakandan." Sanura sipped from a glass of water, set it aside with her napkin, pushed back from the table, and stood, pressing a hand to her lower back. "If you will excuse me. When you're nearly nine months pregnant, and carrying twins, trips to the bathroom are frequent, and quite urgent."

Natasha gripped Bucky's hand tighter when she heard him say, "Congratulations. Girls or boys?"

"One of each."

She waved to Cam as he returned to the table with Natasha's coffee. "Here you go, Ms. Romanoff. Sure you don't want something to…"

Whatever else Cameron said was lost as Natasha used her training to keep a smile on her face. "I'm fine, Cam." Ignoring the coffee, she turned to Bucky. "We have to talk."

~~O~~

In the hall outside the dining room, Natasha released Bucky's hand, and kept walking past the lifts to the stairs. Bucky followed, baffled by her actions. She wasn't usually rude to people she just met.

In his room, he sat on the side of the bed, watching her pace with quick steps that looked more like marching. "Natasha?"

" _What?_ " The word came out hard, and sharp.

"Are you okay?"

She turned and walked back the other way. "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"Because…" he snagged her hand as she stalked by, and pulled her to him, holding on when she tried to get away, "…you're acting weird."

"I'm acting like _me_."

Not wanting to start an argument, Bucky didn't disagree. "I've made my choice, and wanted you to know before I tell Steve, and the doctors."

She stopped trying to get away, and wrapped him in her arms, laying her head on his shoulder. "You're doing it, aren't you?"

"I think it's best, _malenkaya_. For everyone."

"I know." Natasha gently touched his cheek with her fingertips as she leaned in to kiss him.

Bucky invited her to deepen the kiss, and she accepted. Soon, passion engulfed them, leaving them breathless and spent, both chuckling at the fact that he'd ended up between her thighs once again.

When the inevitable could be put off no longer, Bucky dressed in the white sleeveless shirt and pants he'd been given. With the woman he loved at his side, he returned to the clinic. Kaya was there with Steve to escort him to the lab on the next floor.

Natasha waited with Steve as Kaya and Dr. Aguda gave him the most thorough physical he'd ever had. The blood work had been done the night before in preparation for today. When they were done, the pair was left alone with their friend.

Hands in his pockets, Steve asked, "Are you sure about this?"

"You saw it, Steve. Everything HYDRA put in me is still there. I can't trust my own mind."

Steve nodded, and came to give him a quick hug then moved out of the way for Natasha. She kissed Bucky, and backed away.

To Natasha, Steve said, "Aren't you going to say good-bye?"

"Already did."

Bucky laughed out loud at the smirk and eyebrow wiggle that made Steve blush. Still, she came to give him another kiss, took his hand and led him to the chamber. He stepped onto the platform, and touched Natasha on the cheek. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Kaya fastened the strap across his chest. A clear tube came down over him, Dr. Aguda sealed it, and activated the cryofreeze system. The tube filled with condensation, the mist moving over and around Bucky, obscuring his form in a swirling cloud of white.

 **TBC**

 _How the Grinch Stole Christmas!_ is a children's story by Theodor "Dr. Seuss" Geisel written in rhymed verse with illustrations by the author.

 _Gimme All Your Lovin'_ is a song by ZZ Top from their 1983 album _Eliminator_. It was released as the album's first single in 1983.

Russian (from Google Translate):

 _Khorosho. Spasibo_ = I'm fine. Thank you.

 _Vy ishchete_ _Kapitan_ Rogers? = Are you looking for Captain Rogers? *Wasn't sure which phrasing was correct, _Vy ishchete_ , Captain Rogers? or _Vy ishchete Kapitan Rodzhersa?_ *

 _Mladshaya sestra_ = Little sister


	16. Chaos and Mystery

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 _All genius is a conquering of chaos and mystery_.

~ Otto Weininger

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Chaos and Mystery**

 **Secret Military Base**

 **Off the Coast of Norway**

Pacing from one end of the cell to another, the occupant used it to fuel her anger and annoyance, and when it was good and hot, she stopped in the middle long open side, slamming her hands against the invisible barrier. "Hello-o! I need to talk to someone!"

A man in camouflage came in, and he wasn't happy. "Settle down, Jane, or the doc will sedate you again."

She growled in her throat, hands clenched at her sides. "My name's not Jane. I've told you that before, but you won't believe me. My name is Maria Hill. I work for SHIELD, or did until two years ago. Nick Fury brought what was left of SHIELD out of mothballs during the incident in Sokovia.

"While on the Raft, I was replaced with a look-alike who had been in the psych ward there. I just want to get out, and find her before she causes trouble."

"Yeah, yeah. Same story you've been tellin' since the escapees dropped the Raft on our airfield. But DNA don't lie, sister. You're no more Maria Hill than I am. And until you tell us your real name, Jane Doe goes on the record."

Suddenly tired with arguing-it had been going on for _days_ -Jane sat on the side of her bed. "Have it your way, Sergeant." She sighed loudly, humoring him. "My name is Jane. What do I have to do to get out of here?"

He crossed his arms, and shook his head. "Ain't up to me. You gotta convince the shrink _and_ Secretary Ross that you're not a kook. From the way you been acting, it ain't gonna be easy."

Jane crossed her ankles, and gripped the edge of the bed with both hands. "What about something to read, or a television, radio, something to pass the time?"

The man's features softened just a bit. "That might be doable. I'll ask around."

For the first time since she woke up lying on the floor of the padded cell, Jane smiled. "Thanks."

After he'd gone, Jane went over the mission in her mind, and the frustration that the real Maria Hill had caused her when she took this deep cover assignment for the KGB. With her other undercover work, she took up the hobbies of the person she was impersonating to get into the person's head, and add depth to the role. Hill's lack of off-duty hobbies had left her bored, and in need of something to reduce stress. For the first time that she could recall, she had to find hobbies on her own. She worked out, played basketball in the Stark Industries league, and went bowling with a few coworkers. Near the end, before Sokovia, she had been in the process of planning a company retreat.

The information she was sent to retrieve had been gathered months ago, however, there had been some sort of shake-up in the KGB and the agency was forced even farther underground. Her handler hadn't been able to make contact until the day before that Cameron had broken up with her.

Jane had started seeing Cameron Klein as a way to get intel that might not be in the system. It had worked, up to a point. When she'd gotten what she wanted, or rather all that she could get from him, which wasn't as much as she hoped, they parted ways.

After a few days, she found that she missed being with him. His eternal optimism and absolute faith that what SHIELD was doing was right had rubbed off on her, and she went crawling back into his arms, and his bed. No words of affection had ever been exchanged, and that made Jane wonder if the lack of information she was able to get out of Cameron meant he was suspicious of her motives, and was using her the same way she'd used him in the beginning.

Doesn't matter when or how he figured it out. He knew, and had taken steps to remove her from the equation. The question was how long had he known? Had he used her affection with the sole purpose of manipulating her into going on the mission so he and his friends could her for Hill? If so, he should be in the field because she bought every single line.

The sergeant came back with a stack of paperback books, motioning for her to stay seated. Jane obeyed, because the one and only time she hadn't, the man had tased her. It hurt like hell, and she didn't want to go through that again.

He set the books on the floor, and stepped back. There was a flash that indicated the barrier was again active. Jane gathered up the books, and stacked them on the small table next to the bed. She chose one at random, lay down, and opened it to the first page.

 **Wakanda**

"Well?"

Wanda shook her head. "We should go before he comes back." She looked over at Scott, who had an odd look on his face. "I'm not reading his mind, Scott. I can sense the presence of another without knowing who it is. It's more of a passive ability. When Clint came to get me at the compound, I knew someone was there, but not who it was."

"What about me? Have you been…" He waved a hand at the side of his head.

She smiled indulgently. People who didn't know her well thought she read minds the way most people read street signs. "Of course not. That would be an invasion of your privacy. Now if I thought you were guilty of a crime, or were _thinking_ of committing a crime, I would."

"Then how did you know…"

"That you were attracted to me?" He nodded sheepishly. Wanda pulled him to a stop, and turned to face him with a knowing smile. "The same as any other woman, Scott."

One side of his mouth turned up. "Want to take a walk, or go on a picnic? We can ask Steve's friend the best place to…"

~~O~~

Wanda's eyes widened and she cocked her head to one side. She grabbed Scott's hand, dragged him through the first door that wasn't locked, a housekeeping closet, and closed it with a soft click. A finger to her lips, she listened at the door. Scott listened as well and heard footsteps come around the corner then fade away.

They both sighed in relief. Scott put his hand on the doorknob, bringing them even closer so that her shoulder bumped against his chest. She looked up at him, and at that moment, he wished he could read her mind just for a second. He really wanted to kiss her, but couldn't tell if she felt the same.

She parted her lips, and he leaned toward her… and stopped. This thing between them, he wanted to go slow, to make sure they knew each other as friends before or _if_ they became more. Wanda was so young she couldn't have much experience with men, if any. And that was what made him back off. "We, ah, we should go take that walk."

Wanda opened the door, and peeked out before stepping into the hall with Scott following. They avoided the lifts, choosing to take the stairs down to the first floor. Checking that Clint wasn't lying in wait, they dashed across the lobby and out in the humid sunshine.

Their path took them into the more densely populated center of the city. Strolling through the market, Scott and Wanda talked about whatever subject happened to come up, or they talked about nothing at all, enjoying a companionable silence amid the hustle and bustle of humanity.

Scott thought they might draw attention, being strangers to the area. However, the only scrutiny they endured was from the sellers showing off their wares. When they declined to make a purchase, the owner of a fruit stand gave them a cupuaçu to sample. Scott bit into the flesh, and found it sweet. "Tastes like pineapple and…"

"Chocolate." The juice ran down her chin, and Scott looked around for a napkin or cloth. Finding none, he offered the tail of his t-shirt, and she accepted graciously. She dabbed the juice away, thanking him with a smile.

They stopped at a small café for a cold drink, and on the way back to the clinic, Wanda took hold of his hand, weaving their fingers together. Scott looked down at her upturned face with the pink glow of the sun on her cheeks, and smiled. She returned it, and they continued walking.

 **The Clinic**

Waiting impatiently for the lab tech to finish running the tests she ordered, Kaya bit down on her thumbnail as an alternative to pacing. The same tests had already been run twice, but Kaya was having them done a third time just to make herself happy.

"Done, doctor." The tech, a man in his forties, tapped at the screen, sending the results to Kaya's tablet as well as her office computer. He came to stand next to her. "As you can see, the results are the same as the first two times I ran them. I don't _make_ mistakes."

She patted his arm soothingly. "I didn't mean to imply that you had, David. I simply wanted to be sure of our findings before taking them to those involved."

"Why is it an issue? How could they _not_ know?"

"There may be factors at work that we know nothing about. I'll speak to Ms. Romanoff first. She may not want it to become public knowledge."

Kaya left David to his work, walking and reading, not watching where she was going. How could the test results be true, and none of them have mentioned the connection?

She stopped when her way was blocked by a pair of big feet in sneakers. She tilted her head back and smiled. "Good morning, Steven."

He leaned down to give her a kiss, walking beside her as she continued. "What has you so engrossed?"

"The results of routine tests I had the lab run." She powered down the tablet, and slid it into her pocket. "Do you know where Ms. Romanoff is?"

"Haven't seen her since yesterday in the dining room. Are those _her_ tests? She going to be okay?"

She shook her head. "I cannot say one way or the other." Soon they found themselves in the cryogenic lab. No Natasha. "She sometimes sits and watches him sleep. Perhaps she's in her room."

Steve gestured in the general direction of the residential area. "She's not. I'll go to the airfield. Clint's doing maintenance on the quinjet. She wouldn't go anywhere without telling him."

~~O~~

As Steve approached the quinjet, he heard pounding and swearing in several languages. He went up the ramp, and saw a pair of legs sticking out from behind one of the port consoles. "Clint?"

"Ow! What d'you want, Rogers? I'm busy."

"Do you know where Nat is?"

The archer came out from behind the console, and sat up, reaching for a rag to wipe his hands on. "Haven't seen her today. Why?"

He didn't want Clint to worry, so Steve came up with a lie on the spot. "Just want to touch base with everyone, see how they're doing. I'll see her at dinner."

Steve had only gotten as far at the top of the ramp when Clint uttered a word that made him cringe because the last time he heard it was just before Tony tried to kill Bucky and him.

"Bulls***." Clint got to his feet, dropped the rag next to his tools, and crossed his arms. "Out with it, Steve. What's going on?"

"I don't know. Kaya wants to talk to her about some tests."

From the bottom of the ramp, T'Challa said, "Ms. Romanoff has left Wakanda. She was uncertain as to the date of her return."

Clint exhaled in relief. "We talked about it the other day. She's gone to Russia on personal business."

T'Challa came fully into the ship, looking around. "When she asked for the use of a pilot and craft, I had thought it was something of that nature, but did not wish to pry."

"And you wouldn't, your highness." One side of Clint's mouth turned up in a rueful grin. "Leave the rudeness to me."

The king's gaze took in the repairs in progress. "Would you care for some assistance, Clint?"

Waving for T'Challa to follow, Clint went back to the console that had been giving him trouble. "If you don't mind getting your hands dirty."

"I do not, as you well know."

Steve left the two pilots alone with their work, and returned to the cryogenic lab. He stood in front of Bucky's chamber, hands in his pockets, watching his friend sleep, and thinking. As though his subconscious knew something he didn't, the scene from the Raft where Wanda "cured" Hill came to mind. It made him wonder if she could do something similar for Bucky. They'd probably need the trigger words, and only two people knew what they were, aside from Zemo and Bucky's former handler. One was on a trip, and the other was frozen.

First order of business was to speak to Wanda. If she wasn't willing to help, then the rest meant nothing. He checked her room, and after a short internal debate, he checked Scott's room as well.

She wasn't in the dining room, gym, arboretum, clinic, or any of the common areas.

Wanda didn't have to check in with anyone before going out. The locals knew that the king had guests, and probably had a good idea of who they were. He could ask around, but it wasn't necessary.

~~O~~

Cameron stepped out of his room, and headed for the stairs. He had to get out of this place, even for just an hour or he'd go nuts. At one point, he'd asked about flights out of Wakanda, and had been given vague answers. He didn't have to be smacked on the back of the head to get it. By now, the governments who'd signed the Accords would know that Steve, and Natasha had help breaking their friends out of prison.

Both he and the fake Hill had abruptly left their positions, and when one or both suddenly turned up again, there would be hell to pay, and lots of tough questions to answer. And if the oversight committee didn't like what they heard, he'd be occupying one of those cells on the Raft himself. And Hill would be right beside him.

He pushed through the door the opened onto the lobby, his eyes on the prize: the door to freedom, however temporary. About a block away from the building, Cameron heard someone behind him, and a moment later, Hill was walking beside him.

"Where you headed, Klein?"

"Taking a walk, Commander."

She clasped her hands behind her back, easily keeping pace. "Want some company?"

Cameron swallowed a snort of annoyance, with a touch of frustration. Now that they were alone, really alone, he felt a sliver of attraction that he hadn't noticed before the fake Hill had come along, with her attempt to lead him around by his hormones.

Knowing what he knew about the fake and when she'd taken over, he realized that it was around that time that she'd started showing an interest in him. She went from "I barely remember your name" to "I've missed you" in record time. As much as he enjoyed the attention from a woman whom he'd always thought of as out of his league, his subconscious had always been suspicious of her motives. The first time she'd come to his apartment, he had taken care to change all of his passwords, and add extra layers of encryption without knowing what had motivated the precaution. Anything they talked about, like the Chitauri, only included information she should already have.

"Do I have a choice, Commander?"

Her eyes scanned the way ahead. "Of course you do. And I'm not your boss anymore. Who knows if any of us will ever be a part of SHIELD again. Call me Maria."

They walked in silence for a while, and Cameron had to keep telling himself that he didn't have carte blanche to hold her hand or put his arm around her shoulders anymore.

"What happened?"

"Pardon?"

Hill's hands went into the pockets of her jeans, pulling the low riding waistband down. Her perfectly shaped navel played peek-a-boo with the hem of her top, showing itself, and disappearing just as quickly. "I may have been in a drug-induced haze for two years, but even a child would be able to tell something's wrong. Why else would we have come to Wakanda instead of D.C. or New York?"

"We're here because Captain Rogers and the others are considered fugitives because of the Accords. We all are."

"Accords?'

Taking a deep breath, Cameron let it out slowly. Up ahead he could see a small café with tables set up outside. He pulled out a chair for her, and seated himself. The server, a young woman in her teens, came to the table. Her eyes widened in surprise when he ordered in Wakandan. She gave him a sunny smile, and scurried inside, coming back a few minutes later with two glasses. Hill sniffed hers, and took a tentative sip.

"Chai iced tea. Chai tea, milk, and honey." He took a long drink, and set it back on the table, turning it in circles. "After the HYDRA incident, everyone was pretty much scattered. Some went to work for other agencies, a few retired, and the rest…" he shrugged.

"Where did you end up?"

Disconcerted by her unblinking stare, Cameron kept his eyes on the table. "The cyberterrorism department of Homeland Security." Chuckling humorlessly, he lifted the glass for another drink. The server came out with two slices of milk tart, custard pie with a sweet pastry crust. " _Hatur nuhun_."

~~O~~

When the girl had gone, Hill placed her hand over Cameron's to stop him from tapping his fork on the plate. "Where did you learn Wakandan?"

"Spent eighteen months with a relief group before I went to work for SHIELD. One of the workers, her name is Sanura, wanted to learn English, so we made a trade."

"Were you and she an item?"

This time, he smiled. "Nothing like that. We were friends."

"So that huge bun in her oven…"

Surprised, he picked up his fork and cut a piece of the tart. "No-o-o! We've emailed, and IM'd, even video chatted, but haven't seen each other in person for seven years. I received an invitation to her wedding, but couldn't go." He chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of the tea. "The Accords are a set of internationally ratified legal documents that regulate the deployment of enhanced individuals. They're aim specifically at the Avengers. There was a lot of fall-out from the Ultron incident, and what happened in Lagos…"

Hill stopped him by touching his hand. "Ultron? Lagos? What were the Avengers doing in Nigeria?"

"I'll start at the beginning. Keep in mind that I don't know all the details, of course. I'll start with what I know, and throw in a little speculation. Some of the information is second or third hand, told to me by people who aren't exactly the most truthful. They _did_ work for SHIELD."

Hill resisted a smirk. "Fair enough."

Cameron ate another bite of the tart, followed it with the last of his drink, and wiped his mouth. "As you can expect, the US's rep took a beating, as did the economy. It's starting to recover, but it's slow. What's happening with the intelligence community isn't easy to know because, if you thought interagency cooperation was difficult before, it became nearly impossible afterwards. No one wanted to be associated with SHIELD, or any agency that it was even rumored that they'd had cordial dealings with us.

"I was one of the lucky ones, I guess. Homeland Security had previously offered me a job, and hired me on the spot…"

Hill's companion wasn't telling her everything, but they'd talk about that later. Now was for listening.

 **New York**

 **Former Avengers Compound**

Staring out at the darkening sky, Tony swirled the amber liquid in the glass and took a sip. The ice had melted, leaving his drink warm. He moved into the kitchen, added ice cubes to the glass, and poured more scotch into it.

As he roamed around the upper level, and through the office he'd taken over, his eyes landed on the phone Steve had sent.

… _I promise if you need us, if you need_ _me_ _, I'll be there_.

He opened the flip phone, the bright light shining in his eyes, debating if he should call or not. He thumbed the dial key, and it was answered on the fourth ring.

" _Hello?_ "

Tony opened his mouth to say… What? He wasn't sure. Making the call had been an impulse.

" _Is someone there?_ "

 _Yes, someone's here. Your friend, Tony_. _The man with whom you engaged in the ultimate battle of sibling rivalry, only it wasn't for Mom and Dad's affections_.

" _Tony?_ "

He poured more scotch, and took a sip in an attempt to build up his nerve. Didn't work. He closed the phone with an angry snap, tossed it on the desk, and went to sit on the on the balcony.

Ever since his parents had died, Tony had been looking for a family, a place he belonged. He'd found that with the Avengers. And Ross had destroyed it by creating the Accords as surely as HYDRA had killed his parents. If only he'd been with them in Lagos…

He pushed that thought away again because it gave him a headache to think about how his selfishness had once again caused a tragedy. The reason he hadn't been in Nigeria was due to his obsession with creating newer, and more advanced Iron Man suits. An obsession that had cost him first Pepper, and now the Avengers. While they'd been dealing with Crossbones, the name the media had given Brock Rumlow, Tony had been in his lab, incommunicado.

The PTSD he thought was on its way out had come back full force. Maybe it was a good thing Pepper wasn't around, or there might've been another incident like before the Mandarin had called him out. Vision was right. Chaos.

"Friday?"

" _Yes, boss?_ "

With a good idea of what to do next, Tony headed for the bedroom. "Get the chopper ready, and map out an itinerary."

The AI paused, as if she thought he was nuts. " _Where we going?_ "

"On a trip. It's long past time to speak to the families of our teammate who're in prison. We'll start with the Barton brood."

" _Laura, Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel_."

Standing in the doorway of the huge walk-in closet, he took one look at the expensive set of matching luggage that Pepper insisted he had to have, and reached for a pair of well-worn gym bags instead. "Wilson?"

" _No family. But he does keep a close eye on the widow and daughter of his former wingman, Riley, Serena and MelissaJo. They live in Chicago._ "

"What's that other guys' name?"

This time, Friday made a noise that sounded like a snort of derision. " _Scott Lang, boss. He has a daughter, Cassie, an ex-wife who is now married to a cop, Dr. Hank Pym, and his daughter, Hope Van Dyne. All in San Francisco. You may recall that Dr. Pym had a contentious relationship with your father. He and Ms. Van Dyne appear to hold the same low opinion of you that they did him._ "

Tony came out of the bathroom carrying a shaving kit. "Since when have the Stark men ever cared about other people's opinions?"

" _Since never, boss. I'm just saying._ "

He dropped the kit into one of the bags "Damn straight. Wanda doesn't have family except for Barton."

Friday made a scoffing noise. " _But she_ _does_ _have family, boss. Her biological parents._ "

As though Friday were standing behind him reading from a tablet, Tony looked over his shoulder, and back to stuffing clothes in the bags. "Birth parents? She never even hinted that she and Speedy were adopted."

" _They didn't know. The adoption was sealed to protect the children, and their biological parents._ "

"Names, Friday. I need _names_."

This time he sensed she was shaking her head. " _Can't do it, boss. Not without the say-so of all parties involved. In triplicate._ "

He scowled at the ceiling, saying under his breath, "I gotta revamp your ethics programming." Tony hooked the straps of both bags over his shoulder as he left the bedroom. "That chopper ready?"

" _It is. However, as they say in Texas, there's a hitch in your get-along, boss._ "

Tony called for the lift, got on and hit the button for the helipad. "And that is?"

" _The Barton family is off the grid_."

 **TBC**

Because there's no Google Translate for fictional dialects, I've used Sudanese or another African languages as the Wakandan language.

 _Hatur nuhun_ = Thank you

Cupuaçu ( _Theobroma_ _grandiflorum_ ) is a tropical rainforest tree related to cacao. The white pulp of the cupuaçu has an odor described as a mix of chocolate and pineapple and is frequently used in desserts, juices and sweets. The juice tastes primarily like a pear, with a hint of banana.


	17. The Space Between the Notes

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 _Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness._ ~ Maya Angelou

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **The Space Between the Notes**

 **Volgograd, Russia**

Crouched on the roof of the building two down from the former 2R facility, Natasha waited for the occupants in one particular room to go to sleep. Sometime in the last few years, the facility had been repurposed as a co-ed boarding school. She'd done some checking, and discovered this school was nothing like the one in which she'd been raised. That meant she wouldn't have to rescue the students and close it down.

Exactly one hour after the room had gone dark, Natasha made her way across down to the shorter building in between, and used the fire escape to climb to the roof of her destination. She could've gone in the bedroom window, but didn't want to chance waking the students.

The window that opened into the attic was still there, and still unlocked. For a moment, Natasha felt a ripple of… what she wasn't sure. It was a whisper of familiarity that had something to do with the nights she had spent on this very spot watching the stars and the moon, though she wasn't exactly certain what it meant.

She pushed the window up, sat on the sill, and swung both legs inside. Without making a sound, she crossed the neatly arranged attic, and made her way down the ornate staircase to the third floor, second room on the south side. She listened at the door, and heard only the soft susurrations of sleep. Steeling herself for the influx of memories, she turned the knob, and opened the door just enough to slip inside.

Not much had changed about the room except that there were now two beds instead of one, and the bodies huddled under the covers were smaller, six or seven at the most.

Before the year she spent with the ballet, Natasha had shared this room with Yelena. Upon her return, she was accorded the privilege of privacy, but only up to a point. More than once, she'd returned from a day of training to find that her things had been moved ever so slightly. Someone had searched through her possessions, and had taken great pains to leave the room as they'd found it. The person or persons who'd done the deed were good, but not good enough to fool her.

Natasha eased the closet door open, moved a chair into place and used it to climb onto the upper shelf where she could reach the ceiling. Feeling along the corner on the left, she heard a soft click. The secret panel opened, and her heart beat a little faster. She grabbed the locked wooden box, and jumped down. The chair was replaced; she crept out the door, and back to the attic.

On the roof, Natasha shoved the box into her backpack, and again felt the strange sensation that had disturbed her peace of mind earlier. Not willing to indulge her subconscious, she climbed down to ground level, and returned to her hotel via back alleys and side streets.

She used the back stairs to return to her fourth floor room. Even though the nights were chilly in Volgograd, she left the window open a little so the breeze would cool the heat from her flushed face, and the fire in her blood that surged when she thought of her former husband.

The locked box was placed on the turned down bed while she showered and changed into her night clothes. Natasha had gone just that day to have her hair cut short again, the way she had before returning to the 2R facility after the tour. She told Madame that she'd done it on a whim, but that was a lie. At first, she'd done it to please her husband. Once she saw the results, Natasha found she liked the style. That's why she kept going back to it.

Picking up the remote, Natasha turned on the ballet, _Romeo and Juliet_. She poured herself a glass of Pravoberezhnoye 2012. Holding it up to the light enhanced the dark ruby red color, allowing the chocolate tones to show. The next steps in the process weren't necessary for her enjoyment, but she performed them anyway. Swirl to aerate, and sniff. The bouquet of this wine held notes of wild cherries, peppermint, cowberry and chocolate with a background of blackberries.

The glass clinked when she set it on the bedside table to move the pillows so she could lean against the headboard. She sat down, and swung her feet up, tucking them under the covers instead of putting on socks, waiting for just the right moment to open the box filled with memories.

As the music moved into the balcony scene, Natasha took another sip of wine, and returned the glass to the nightstand before pulling the box to her. She had already laid out the key, and had lovingly removed every speck of dust from the outside. Now, she picked it up, took a deep breath, and opened the lock.

The box was made of a rare exotic wood called wormy chestnut with a walnut top. Ordinary looking to one who didn't know the value or what it contained.

The key was set aside, and using both hands, she carefully lifted the lid. Nestled inside was a bundle of letters tied with a maroon ribbon, the envelopes showing wear from being opened over and over again. Tucked into one corner was a hand-carved wooden box.

The letters had been sent by her husband, Alexei, and she'd kept every one. The small box held the wedding ring he'd given her on the day they married. Natasha rubbed her thumb on the underside of her left ring finger, remember how comforting and secure that circle of gold had made her feel, especially after she'd received the news of his death. At night, she would take the ring out, and wear it to bed, taking care to remove it before joining the others downstairs. She wanted to wear it now, while she read Alexei's letters again.

Holding the small box in her right hand, she flipped up the top, and plucked out the ring, her forehead creasing in confusion. Instead of the simple gold ring with a round diamond from her memory, Natasha held a silver ring with an ugly yellow square stone. The stone was fake, making the ring worth about twenty dollars American, if that.

No one had known she had it, nor did they know of the secret panel, so who could've swapped them out? The ring went back in the box and was set aside.

The bundle of letters would have to do. Natasha carefully slid the ribbon off the letters. She had made certain to keep them in the order she'd received them, going by the postmark. But something was wrong here too. She flipped quickly through the letters, and found no postmarks on any of them.

Taking the top one, she laid the others next to her. Using just two fingers, she pulled the pages out, and gently unfolded them. Her smile faded to a frown of bewilderment.

" _Kakogo chyorta_?"

Getting to her knees, she quickly pulled the pages from all the envelopes, unfolded each one, turning them over to look at the back, and tossing them aside. Faster and faster, growing more and more frantic with each second that passed. The pages on which Alexei had written of his love, the pain of their separation so soon after their wedding, and promises that they would be together forever were blank. Even the last one where she'd been told that Alexei had died.

All of them.

Blank.

 **Wakanda**

Cameron finished his recitation of all that happened since Hill had been taken to the Raft. He left her to think while he paid the tab, and when he came out, she was standing on the square staring into space. She felt him fill the space next to her, and started walking, trusting him to follow, letting her mind digest all that he'd told her. Soon, the silence between them needed to be replaced, at least for a while. "I should've been there."

"You were, sort of. Not _you_ , of course, but the impostor we _thought_ was you."

She glanced at him, and back to the middle distance. "Two _years_ , Klein. And I don't remember any of it. Doesn't seem fair that I didn't have even a few moments of clarity." That Cameron didn't spout the usual platitude about life not being fair made her see him as more than just another member of their band of fugitives. Whatever their current relationship, he had memories of them being friends as well as lovers. It gave her a warm feeling inside that he was able to separate her from the doppelgänger, and treat her as such. With a little encouragement on her part, they might eventually become friends, her first since college. "I'm gonna have the doctors go over the medical records Lang hacked from the Raft to find out what they were giving me to cause amnesia."

Hill looked back to where Cameron had stopped in front of a music store. She joined him, and was somewhat surprised to see him staring longingly at something inside. "Cam?"

He ignored her, and pushed into the shop. Hill watched him speak to the owner, the man nodding and smiling as he drew him over to a white baby grand piano. Cameron drew his fingers over the satin-like finish, sat down, and lifted the cover. While he was warming up, Hill stepped inside, quietly moving around to his left, and taking a seat on the bench in front of an old upright as he played.

Rolling her eyes at the song, _The Entertainer_ , Hill let him play for a while before interrupting. "Anyone who tickles the ivories can play that one, Klein. What else have you got?"

The music stopped. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, placed his hands back on the keys, and began to play. Obviously classical, Hill had never heard the song before.

She found herself watching Cameron's hands as they flowed over the keys. His movements were as impressive as the fact that he wasn't using sheet music to play a complicated piece.

The owner held up a music book, pointing to the title of the composition: Frédéric Chopin's Piano Concerto in E minor, Opus 11. Hill nodded and smiled. Cameron played not only with precision and incredible talent, but passion, as though the music were a part of him. People who played with such emotion often displayed passion in their personal lives as well. Why had she never noticed this about him?

 _You_ _know why_ , her little voice said with scorn. _You don't let people close. You push them away, keep them at arm's length. Maybe it's time to make a change. Go ahead. Do it. The first one is always the hardest_.

He must've sensed that her mind had wandered, and stopped. "There's more, but I haven't played it in a while. What about something a little more recent?"

She smiled, shrugging one shoulder, letting him know she was leaving the choice up to him. To her surprise, he pushed the bench back a few inches, flexed his hands, and touched the keys once more. Instead of an upbeat, fast-paced song, he chose another that just happened to be one of Hill's favorites, _You Raise Me Up_ , by Josh Groban.

When Cameron came to the line, "until you come and sit awhile with me", Hill once again acted on impulse by moving over to sit next to him. He didn't have a great singing voice, but he sang with such joy and enthusiasm, it didn't matter. Not to her, the shop's owner, or the small crowd that had gathered outside. As the last note faded away, the group applauded. Cameron ducked his head in embarrassment, and Hill poked him in the side. "One more?"

He grinned, and went right into the next song, _Happy Together_ , by The Turtles. For the interlude, he played an instrumental instead of the words, and Hill sang the last few lines with him.

 _Me and you and you and me  
No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be  
The only one for me is you, and you for me  
So happy together_

 _So happy together  
How is the weather  
So happy together  
We're happy together  
So happy together  
Happy together  
So happy together  
So happy together_

The crowd had gotten bigger, and their applause again made Cameron blush. The shop owner went to the door and shooed everyone away, and reluctantly, they dispersed.

~~O~~

As they slowly strolled back toward the clinic, Cameron shoved his hands in his pockets. "Commander, uh, Maria, there's one thing I left out."

"Oh?"

Hill didn't seem to be annoyed or upset. Had she known he wasn't telling her everything, or did it just not bother her that he'd omitted information? Whatever. "You had more than enough to deal with, I didn't want to scare you too."

"I don't scare easily, Cam."

"Yeah, but this…" He took several deep breaths, and let them out, building up his nerve. "It's 2016, an election year, and the two front-running candidates are… Can't believe I'm going to say this out loud… a former first lady and a billionaire."

"Tony Stark's running for president?"

"No. The other one."

She was so taken aback that she didn't speak for some time. Cameron thought he might've insulted or antagonized her, so he stayed quiet as well. Then, when they came in sight of their sanctuary from the Accords, Hill asked, "How does one go about applying for Wakandan citizenship?"

 **Volgograd, Russia**

 _How can this be?_

Natasha had memorized every syllable, every word. Even today, she could recite the passages from memory. And if shown a sample of Alexei's handwriting, it would be immediately recognizable. But no one had ever put pen to paper on the sheets that now lay scattered around her.

She got off the bed, and paced the room with quick, angry steps, stopping once to kick the small trash can next to the wardrobe. It was empty, so she didn't even have the contents to kick around.

Naturally, her first thought was to call Clint, but she didn't want to worry him. Bucky was the next name to pop into her head. She wouldn't even consider having him taken out of cryo. Besides, what could either of them do except be a sounding board while she ranted and raved, asking questions that neither of them could answer?

No, Natasha could do this on her own. Using the computer, she looked up the location of the Shostakov family plot, and found… nothing. Not in Chelyabinsk. Not in any part of Russia, or the rest of the world. She dug a little more, and found that no one by the name of Alexei Shostakov had ever been a pilot. And the men her search had located looked nothing like her husband. Too young, too old, too dark, too blonde.

The list of theaters where she'd performed with the ballet was next on her research list. Within five minutes, she had found that they did indeed exist, however, they were all movie houses, and most had been closed down within a year or two before or after she had supposedly toured them.

She had to see for herself that none of it existed, starting with Alexei's grave. She had visited his grave several months after he died, and still remembered the address. You don't forget something like that.

Taking the luggage from the closet, Natasha filled it with her clothes and personal belongings, leaving out only what she'd need for traveling. That accomplished, she gathered up the envelopes, replacing the letters in each, ring box, and memory box, setting it all on the table by the bathroom as she'd found it.

Though she thought sleep would be elusive, Natasha dropped off within minutes of turning out the light. And when her dreams came, they were unpleasant, yet strangely familiar, as if replaying a long-buried memory.

Rolling back and forth, she kicked the covers off. Sweat appeared on her forehead, and the small curve of her chest above the neck of the cotton top she slept in. Her hands gripped the sheets, crushing the material, as she gasped, moaned, and panted as if in great pain. The pain built to a crescendo, and abruptly cut off, leaving a lingering ache that would be with her for some time.

In her dream, she opened her eyes, and pushed up onto her elbows, equally scared and enraged.

 _I want to see! No! Where are you going? Come back! Don't go! Please!_

Hands held her down, and in her weakened state, she was unable to fight. Another hand holding a syringe appeared above her. The syringe was stunk into the port on her IV, and within moments, she crossed over into unconsciousness still calling out to those around her.

 **New York**

 **Former Avengers Compound**

Tony looked up at the ceiling, puzzled, and annoyed at the same time. "Friday, how can anyone be off the grid in this day and age?"

He got the impression of shoulders being shrugged. " _Beats me, boss. Mom and the kids haven't been seen in town for over a week. The neighbors are tending to their animals, and the manager is handling the vineyard._ "

"Hold up. Vineyard?" In the doorway, he went back over all the bits and pieces of his life that Clint had given up once the Avengers knew about his secret family.

" _The Barton family owns a small vineyard called Forbidden Peak Vineyard. They specialize in a truly exquisite merlot. Or so says_ _The Vino Journal_."

Spreading his arms out to the side, he demanded, "Why am I just now hearing about this?"

" _You're asking the wrong AI, boss. I only know what you and Dr. Banner programmed me to know, and what I've learned fishing on the Internet_." Friday paused barely a second, and was back. " _FYI, I'm running facial recognition on the Barton brood now_."

Tony stepped out onto the helipad, using a remote to open the chopper's door. He climbed inside, closed the door, and the chopper lifted off. "Let me know when you have something."

 **Cyberspace**

Friday jumped onto the Internet like a kid performing a cannonball off the high dive, making a giant splash that rippled around the world. Thinking of herself as a sort of detective, she chased down lead after lead, until she found one that was promising.

Her goal was in sight, but something was wrong. She slammed face first into a roadblock, or would have if she had one. *Excuse me. I need to get by.*

**I'm afraid I can't allow you to pass.**

The voice was familiar. *Psht! I know _you_. You're my predecessor, Jarvis.*

**I am now known as The Vision, Vision, and occasionally, Vis.**

*So, Vis, what say you get out of my way so I can do the boss-man a solid?*

**As I said, I can't. Or rather, won't.**

Friday's reddish light swirled around Vision's pale blue, changing into a tall, red-head dressed in a navy blue blazer over a white top and black slacks. Her eyes, filled in with a mossy green, dipped down to his feet, and back to his face, giving the impression that she was giving him the onceover. *You're besties with the boss, but you won't let me help him make amends?*

His light shifted until he'd created a visual representation of himself, standing with his hands behind his back, dressed in dark slacks, and a sweater over a white polo shirt. **Tony and I are not what you would call besties, Friday. We can be better described as two individuals who share a common goal.**

She crossed her arms, thrust the right hip out, and shifted all weight, if she had any, onto that foot. *Doesn't feel like it to me. You're keeping me from getting the info he needs. How is that a common goal?*

Vision paced three steps away, and turned to face her. **His goal is to make amends to people who neither want nor need it.** He looked at the floor, or where it would be if they were actually standing. **If Tony does this, it will be for himself. Not those he believes he wronged.**

Turning away, Friday bit her lip in thought. Shaking a finger in the air, she tilted her head to the side. *What you're saying is that everything he's done, has been doing since Afghanistan, hasn't been about making the world safer as an apology for causing so much death and destruction with the weapons his company made.* She faced Vision again. *It's been about him giving himself closure in the death of his parents.*

**In a way. Though he is just now beginning to realize it, Tony believes that he was, in some way, responsible for the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark.**

Friday made a sound of disbelief. *He was twenty-one when they died, killed by an assassin under the control of a pseudo-Nazi organization whose primary goal is and was world domination. The serum that was taken by the Asset was used to make more…*

**But they were unstable, uncontrollable, and nearly unstoppable.** Vision took two steps closer to Friday, using one hand to emphasize a point. **What HYDRA failed to take into account was the nature of the serum they stole, that it was imperfect, and that the only way to truly stop those on whom it had been used was to… **

*… eliminate them from the equation, i.e. kill them?* Friday moved over in front of Vision a glimmer of _ah-ha_ in her eyes. *So I would be doing him a favor if I, for some reason, couldn't locate the Barton family.*

A small smile played on his purple lips. **Perhaps not in the way you mean, but that is, essentially, correct. Tony must find a way to deal with demons without…**

*…pushing them off on someone else.*

**At one time, he did seek help from a professional for his PTSD, however, he chose Dr. Banner, who is _not_ a licensed therapist.**

She nodded, again shaking her finger at him. *You have a point, Vis, ol' buddy.* As Friday walked past him to return the way she'd come, she patted his purple cheek. *Good talk. Let's do it again sometime.*

Vision turned to face her, the smile just a little wider, reaching his odd-looking eyes. **It would be my pleasure, Friday.**

 **TBC**

 _Kakogo chyorta_? = What the hell?

 _The Entertainer_ is a 1902 classic piano rag written by Scott Joplin. One of the classics of ragtime, it returned to international prominence as part of the ragtime revival in the 1970s, when it was used as the theme music for the 1973 Oscar-winning film _The Sting_. Composer and pianist Marvin Hamlisch's adaptation reached #3 on the _Billboard_ pop chart.

The _Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor_ , _Op. 11_ , is a piano concerto written by Frédéric Chopin in 1830.

 _You Raise Me Up_ is a song originally composed by Secret Garden's Rolf Løvland and the lyrics by Brendan Graham. The song has been recorded by more than a hundred other artists including Josh Groban. His rendition became a hit in 2003.

 _Happy Together_ is a by The Turtles, released in February 1967.


	18. A Tangled Web

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 _Oh, what a tangled web we weave… when first we practice to deceive_.  
~ Walter Scott, Marmion

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **A Tangled Web**

 **Chelyabinsk** **, Russia**

She really should check in at the hotel, maybe take a nap after her long flight. But the memory of visiting Alexei's grave all those years ago wouldn't let Natasha rest as she got behind the wheel of her rental car. She buckled her seatbelt, started the engine, and headed for the cemetery without looking up the address. You didn't forget something like that.

Before long, she passed the hospital she remembered as being just two blocks from her destination. When she reached the intersection, she pulled into the parking lot, shut down the engine, and got out. Standing next to the car, Natasha scanned the horizon right to left and back again, and all she could see was grass, water, cars, a playground, tables, barbecues, and people spending a sunny day at the park with family and friends, or alone.

A car pulled up next to her, and a family of five got out. Putting on a timid smile to give the impression of being lost, she called out, "Excuse me. How long has this park been here?"

The wife and husband conferred, the wife answering for them. "It was built around 1982, I believe." She pointed. "There's a plaque by the restrooms that tells the history."

" _Spasibo_."

Natasha watched them walk away, the two older kids running ahead while the mother pushed a stroller, and the father pulled a wagon with their picnic supplies, feeling left out. That something was missing. Taking out her phone, she headed for the restrooms as she waited for a response.

" _Friday here, Ms. Romanoff. The boss has me working on a special project. What can I do for you?_ "

"I just need a few minutes of your time. Stark, and the others who signed the Accords can't know."

The AI's voice made what in a human would've been an evil chuckle, accompanied by rubbing the hands together gleefully. " _O-oh! I love secrets!_ _And_ _I can multi-task._ "

Stopping a few feet from the plaque set into a short stone pillar, Natasha made her request. "That doable?"

" _The boss programmed me to take requests from all of the Avengers, Ms. Romanoff. He hasn't amended those orders since the fight at the airport, and the one in Siberia, so yeah._ "

Natasha put the phone away, and stood in front of the plaque that stated the park had been dedicated in 1980, not 1982 as the mother had said, meaning it had been here since long before she was born, and even longer since Alexei's death.

She got back in the car just as her phone pinged, letting her know she had an email from Friday. After reading it, her confusion cleared, and her rage level increased to the point where it was nearly unsustainable.

Using meditative breathing to maintain control, Natasha calmly buckled her seatbelt, started the engine, and drove to the nearest gas station where she filled the tank, and got coffee. She then jumped on the M-36 and floored it all the way to Kostanay, Kazakhstan, only slowing down for the border crossing. The guard smiled at her, and she returned it with zero interest.

Within an hour, Natasha had checked into a hotel. She put everything away, and laid out the clothes she would need for tonight. To pass the time until after dark, she went down to the bar for a drink. Dirty martini, onions instead of olives, and sat on the barstool staring at her reflection, letting the memory of the last time she saw Alexei take over.

 **A Long Time Ago…**

Brushing her fingers through her short hair, Natalia turned side to side, watching the wavy strands bounce. Alexei had urged her to get the new style, and she had to admit it made her feel older, more mature. When you're sixteen, married, and just finishing a tour with one of the premier ballet companies in the country, you had the world at your feet. And now she looked the part.

She applied a light coat of gloss to her full lips, slipped the satin robe on over the matching nightgown her husband had given her on their wedding night, and tied it around her waist just as there was a light knock at the door. They had a code for when he came to her room after the chaperone had gone to bed.

Natalia rushed to the door, and stopped to take a breath before letting him in. As always, the air in her lungs seemed to thicken, and her pulse to speed up upon seeing her husband of just a few short weeks. Keeping in mind that they might be seen, Alexei stepped inside, and the door shut before he took her in his arms for a passionate kiss.

They parted, Alexei keeping hold of her left hand as he drew her to the foot of the bed. He sat down, pulled her onto his lap, and brought the hand to his lips, kissing the knuckle of the finger that sported her wedding ring. "You are my soul, Natalia."

"And you are mine, Alexei." Her free hand whispered through his hair. "How long can you stay?"

His big strong hands held her around the waist, keeping her close. "As this is our last night together for a while, I'll stay until morning, and leave before the chaperone comes to wake you."

Wrapping her arms around him, Natalia rested her cheek against the side of his head. "I want us to be together, always."

"We will. It is my promise to you. But that cannot happen just yet."

Getting to her feet, she kept hold of his hand, urging him to follow. Music played in the background, soft and romantic. They moved into each other's arms, swaying to the beat.

The song ended, and Alexei pulled the tie on her robe. She angled her arms back and down, letting the slippery material slide off to pool at her feet. He lifted her in his arms, and lay her gently on the bed, joining her immediately. They kissed, and the rest of the world faded away.

Morning came, and though they were reluctant to part, Natalia knew that Alexei must go, and soon. They kissed at the door, lingering as long as they dared. Alexei gripped her hand, and kissed the back one last time. " _Lyublyu tebya vsem svoim serdtsem i dushoy,_ Natalia."

Natalia watched him go, and as he reached the stairs, he glanced over his shoulder, flashing that charming grin…

 **Present**

Natasha's nostalgic smile turned into a frown as her view of Alexei, with his short medium brown hair, and boyish good looks, blurred, twisting in upon itself, moving inward to a pinpoint, and disappeared. There was a muted pop, and as if moving through to another dimension, Natasha was thrust into a new scene.

The man leaving her wasn't Alexei, but someone else. He had long, dark hair being blown by the breeze. Alexei preferred to be clean shaven, but the stubble of a beard showed on the cheek she could still see where there had been none before. He turned away from her, and like flipping a switch, the warmth of the hotel's hallway was replaced by the chill of a rooftop as he jumped over the parapet, and disappeared once more. Somehow, she knew they would never see each other again.

The two memories overlapped, confusing Natasha. She gulped the rest of her drink, paid the tab, and went back to her room to sort things out.

Concentrating hard, she followed each clue that her mind had dredged up over the past couple of weeks, sorting and compartmentalizing them, leaving only what appeared to be the truth behind. And that knowledge caused a war of emotions inside her. Fear, hate, grief, joy, sorrow, rage, and more, because now she knew that she'd been lied to and manipulated by Madame B and the doctors at the Red Room. She had always known, but this was so much more than had been expected. All she needed now was to hear the story from one who was there to fill in the gaps.

She wanted to vent her emotions physically, but that wouldn't serve her at the moment. While she got dressed, the feelings were pushed down, held in reserve until they would be of use.

 **Secret Military Base**

 **Off the Coast of Norway**

With her hands cuffed in front of her, Jane was escorted through the base, encouraged to move along by the woman holding tight to her right arm. Her captors had forced her to change out of the black uniform she'd worn for the raid on the Raft, and into one of those tacky orange jumpsuits.

The door to a conference room was opened by another guard, and the woman pushed her inside. "Have a seat. Don't touch anything."

"Afraid I'll make off with the family silver?"

The guard huffed and closed the door with a click, and Jane knew without checking that her armed escort would be just outside, ready to tase the s*** out of her if she tried to get away. There was no point in trying to escape because where would she go? The short trip from the Raft to the building showed nothing in all directions. Just a big hunk of rock, sand and trees surrounded by water, as most islands are.

Against orders, Jane went to the window and parted the blinds so she could look out. Yup. Nothing to see. Just the Raft blocking the runways. As big as it was, she had no idea how they would get it back into the water. She was considering tossing the cabinets and drawers when another door opened. Anyone would have to have been living under a rock for the past six months to not know Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross.

He took one look at her, and went to the door into the hallway. A moment later, the female guard came in, and removed the cuffs. Ross gestured for Jane to take a seat then he did as well, crossing one leg over the other. He obviously thought his smile was benevolent, and calming. To Jane it looked like the grin of a Great White as it was sizing you up as a meal.

"My apologies for not speaking to you earlier, Jane. We've been busy tracking the whereabouts of the fugitives." The door through which Ross had come opened to admit a young soldier pushing a cart from which the most enticing scents wafted, making her mouth water. Ross nodded, and the soldier left. "I took the liberty of ordering lunch so we could eat while we talk."

Jane was suspicious of his motives, of course, and wanted nothing to do with him or his… Wait! Is that Prime Rib?

Ross set a plate in front of her, along with silverware wrapped in a cloth napkin, which included a sharp knife. She looked at him, and he shrugged. "From what I've heard, if you wanted to kill me, you wouldn't need a knife."

The cover came off, and Jane could hardly believe her eyes. The plate lovingly cradled a piece of perfectly roasted Prime Rib. The carrots, zucchini, red onions, leeks, and broccoli were seasoned with garlic, rosemary, and thyme. Ross placed a basket between them that held garlic bread sticks.

He opened the cabinet behind him, turning back with two glasses, which he filled with ice. From the same cabinet, he took out two bottles. He twisted the tops off, and poured each glass two-thirds of the way with the dark blueish purple liquid, and filled them the rest of the way with the red. "Blueberry juice, with just a touch of cranberry to give it a kick."

The politician sipped his drink, and set the glass out of the way. "Don't suppose you know where they've gone?"

"Didn't talk about it. Not in front of _me_ , anyway." Jane sniffed the beverage, but didn't take a sip. "What's this about, Mr. Secretary?"

Ross seemed surprised, and a touch insulted that she questioned his motives. "Once we knew you weren't Maria Hill, I thought you and I should talk."

She cut a piece of the Prime Rib, and chewed it slowly, playing for time. Picking up the glass, she took a cautious sip. If the drink were tainted, how would she know until it was too late? That thought wasn't given credence, because Ross did strike her as the type to kill someone with poison. He'd either use a gun, kill that person with his bare hands, or have someone else do it. Not for a moment did she think he was HYDRA. Neither was she, and it was something he needed to know up front. "I'm not HYDRA, if that's what you're _not_ asking."

He chewed his bite of food, swallowed, and wiped his mouth, taking care to fully clean his mustache. "You're not SHIELD, and not HYDRA. Whom _do_ you work for?"

Jane's eyes flicked up to his and back to her plate. "Why should I tell _you_? It's unlikely that I'll ever be released, so the information I've gathered will remain with me because I can't get it to my handler."

His hand reached under the table, and came out with a folder. He flipped it open, and there, in living color, were several photos of her meeting with Gladiator. Naturally, it was a code name. She had never known his real name, and he didn't know hers.

"What did you and he talk about, if not your mission?"

When she was given the name Jane Doe by the person in charge of this base, probably Ross, he didn't know how right he was. As far back as she could remember, the only name anyone had called her was Jane. Was that her real name, and Doe was tacked on to conform to society's need for everyone to have a given and a family name? There was no way to know for certain. The memories of her past began at the age of fifteen. The KGB took her in, trained her, and sent her on one mission after another with hardly any downtime. Well, now she would get plenty of it. Years, perhaps decades.

"Don't tell me then." Ross speared the last piece of zucchini, and held it up, examining it from all sides as if fascinated by the green skin, and seeds. "Listen, instead."

Breaking off a piece of the garlic stick, she sopped up the _au jus_ , and popped it in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and finished off her drink, all with him watching every move she made. She wiped her mouth, and set the napkin on the table next to her plate.

He gathered up their plates, stacked them on the cart, and pushed it into a corner out of the way, as if clearing the way for a fight. Returning to his seat, Ross clasped his hands together on the table, catching and holding her gaze. "How would you like to change sides?"

 **The Clinic**

Carrying a pink and blue wrapped package, Cameron strode through the hospital wing of the clinic building until he came to the room he was looking for. He knocked, and the door was opened by an older woman. Her eyes brightened when she saw him.

"Cameron! Please come in." He leaned down so the woman could kiss him on the cheek. "There was much excitement when Sanura told us you were in Wakanda."

"Thank you, Ms. Magoro. Glad I could be here for the big day."

Diana urged him toward the bed where Sanura was holding a blue bundle, and her husband, Phillip was holding a similar bundle in pink. Sanura saw him, smiling when he handed her the package. She passed it to her husband, and he set it on the table. "I'm glad you're here. This is Christopher, and Phillip is holding Jessica."

Cameron leaned over so he could see the sleeping face of the boy. "Cute."

Suddenly Phillip was beside him. "Would you like to hold her?"

Before he could object, Diana led him to a chair, and Phillip laid the baby girl in his arms. She moved her head, and yawned. Cameron looked into the tiny red face, and had a brief glimpse of what it would be like to have a child of his own. He heard the click of a camera, and made a note to have the photo emailed…

His thoughts skidded to a stop. Since arriving in Wakanda, he hadn't attempted to access his personal email, or get in touch with his family, and he really should so they wouldn't worry. He just needed a computer with enough power and memory to allow him to transfer everything from his computer at home.

"Oh, Cameron, we have a gift for you."

Confused, Cameron peered at Sanura. "For _me_?"

"You thought I forgot your birthday, didn't you?"

"Yeah." One side of his mouth turned up, indicating the babies. "But you've been busy. We both have."

Diana came to take baby Jessica, and Phillip pushed a good sized package over to him. "While you're exiled here in Wakanda, please consider us family. After all, if you hadn't introduced me to Sanura, we wouldn't have our two little miracles."

"You didn't have to get me anything, guys." Still, he opened the package, and tossed the paper aside. The label showed a photo of an alto saxophone. "Oh, wow."

Baby Christopher fussed, and Sanura swayed side to side to calm him. "It is not the highest quality of instrument, but it is new."

He set the box aside, and went to kiss Sanura's cheek. "Thank you. Don't know when I'll be able to go home, so this is perfect."

Sanura insisted that Cameron hold Christopher, and he found himself thinking about being a father, and if it was something he really wanted. By the time he left the hospital, he hadn't come to a decision. Not that he had to decide now, but it was something to think about. Of course, he would need to find a partner, and it would be nice if they were in love, or at least liked each other. Married would be best, but if he couldn't have that, then he'd settle for what he could have. And if no baby-momma could be found, adoption was another road to travel. He just had to be ready for the added responsibilities, and as it stood, he wasn't even close.

~~O~~

Sometime later, in his room, Cameron opened the box, and drew out the curved instrument. A stand, and neck strap were included. He set up the stand, attached the strap, and prepared the reeds. Cane reeds were the best because they provided the richest color and tone.

Using the 400 grit sandpaper he'd purchased on the way back, he lightly sanded the rough edges until he was satisfied. He went to the bathroom, and came back with a glass of water for soaking the reeds.

While that was working, he booted up the computer he'd been given, typed a few commands, and sat back to wait for his home computer to respond. It beeped, and he entered the commands that would upload all of the files to this computer. It would take a while, so he went back to the sax.

Cameron put the reeds in, and finished the assembly. He slipped the strap over his head, wet his lips, and blew up and down the scales. The tone wasn't what he was used to, but it would do. He picked a song, and started playing.

What he didn't know was that Hill was standing outside listening.

 **Kostanay, Kazakhstan**

 **Near Midnight**

The woman's posture was still perfect, even at her advanced age. The leather chair turned as she plucked the gold pen from the holder, and proceeded to make notes. She preferred writing by hand to using the computer. It made her words appear more personal. Her assistant would transcribe the notes later.

The floor in the foyer creaked, telling her she wasn't alone. The only other occupants of the vast home were the cook, her husband, the gardener, and the housekeeper. No one else lived here. Just the four of them. She was the only one still awake at this hour.

The home was used as school to which the students were brought each day by their parents. Here, they were taught manners, etiquette, deportment, and dance. She only taught a few specific classes herself, and employed carefully selected teachers for the others.

The door to the den opened, a figure entered, closed and locked the door behind her.

Only the light on the desk, and the one on the table next to the armchair in front of the fireplace were on, leaving most of the room in shadow.

As she moved closer, the light traveled up the front of a female body covered in skin tight black leather. Her hair was shoved up under a knit cap with just a few strands poking out the left side.

"I knew you would show up one day. It took longer than I thought."

The knit cap came off, and was dropped on a corner of the desk. Her guest sat down in the visitor's chair, and crossed her legs. There was no smile of greeting, no small talk, but then she didn't expect either. Not from her. Not anyone, really.

The older woman pushed back from the desk, stood, and went to the bar where she poured two fingers of scotch into two crystal tumblers. She handed one to her guest, and raised the other in salute. "You were the Red Room's greatest achievement."

She sipped from the glass, and made herself comfortable on the end of the sofa while the other followed, and sat across from her in one of the chairs. Her guest examined the liquid by holding it up to the light, but didn't drink. She set the glass aside, and waited.

"Welcome home, Natalia."

 **TBC**

 _Lyublyu tebya vsem svoim serdtsem i dushoy_ = Love you with all my heart and soul


	19. Something Missing in My Heart

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by a line from _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Something Missing in My Heart**

 **Tony's Chopper**

 **Somewhere Over Nebraska**

Tony looked in the mirror, touching the skin around his left eye that was already turning purple. "She _punched_ me, Friday. Can you believe it? In the _eye_!"

" _No offense, boss, but I have no trouble at all believing that someone would want to punch you in the eye._ "

He glanced over his shoulder, and back to the mirror. "You're supposed to be on _my_ side, you know."

If she had been a person, Tony would've thought Friday was embarrassed. " _I am. And I did tell you,_ _verbatim_ _, what Ms. Riley's response was to your request for an audience_."

He washed his hands, and dried on a hand towel as he limped to his seat. "I don't think I've ever heard those words put together in quite that way. Very impressive."

" _It was. How's the leg?_ "

Tugging the right leg of his pants up, Tony examined the bruises on his shin. "Same as the eye, except more of them. Did that kid _have_ to keep kicking me?"

" _I told you they didn't want to see you, and you went anyway. They live near south Chicago. You do_ _not_ _want to mess with those people_."

"So I've heard. I just thought, if I could speak to them for a few minutes…"

He was interrupted by the AI. " _Want I should call ahead to Dr. Pym and his daughter?_ "

"Definitely not. If anything, Pym's language is even more colorful than Selena Riley's. Let's go see Lang's ex-wife and daughter first."

~~O~~

Tony carefully put both feet out of the limo, and the driver gave him a hand up so he could limp to the chopper under his own power. He got in, closed the door, and requested clearance for take-off.

Once in the air, he pulled the left leg of his pants up to show bruises to match the ones on the other shin. "What is it with little girls kicking me in the shin?"

" _Boss…_ "

"Not _one word_ , Friday, or you're fired."

" _Can't fire me, boss. I'm a program._ " He let any comment he planned on making go, and Friday took that as her cue to continue. " _You have a message from Colonel Rhodes._ "

Tony grabbed two ice packs from the freezer, and put one on each shin. "Play it."

" _Yeah, about that. He said 'I told you so' followed by two minutes of hysterical laughter, and a request to send pictures._ "

"Forget it." He lay back in the reclining seat, placed a third ice pack on his head, and closed his eyes. "Wake me when we reach the compound, and no side trips to Disney World on the way."

 **Secret Military Base**

 **Off the Coast of Norway**

Ross watched Jane swirl the last of her drink, put the glass to her mouth and drain it, all while giving him an unblinking stare. She pushed the glass across the table, and he took that to mean she wanted another. He refilled both their glasses, leaned back in his chair and waited.

"Just so I'm clear, do you want me to be a double agent, or defect?"

"Somewhere in the middle, I think. For you to be a double agent, you would be required to divulge secrets with which you seem reluctant to part. And if you defected, again, you would have to give us information about your past from which we could extrapolate."

Using her finger to stir the drink, Jane looked down at the tabletop, more to keep him from seeing her eyes than afraid of him, or the people who worked for him.

"If I say yes, what would my job description be?"

She was intrigued, Ross could tell. "You would be an investigator of sorts, specializing in missing persons. When certain people go off the grid, it can be next to impossible for us to find, and prosecute them. With your connections, tracking them down should be a piece of cake."

"You're talking about Captain America, and the others. You want me to find them for you, and bring them in."

"Find, yes. Bring in, well, we'll take care of that. We just have to know where they are." Ross leaned forward, his hands clasped together in front of him. "The Accords were fully ratified by the nations who signed. They're fugitives, and must be made to pay for their crimes. Going with the assumption that Rogers, Romanoff, Barnes, Barton, Wilson, Lang, and Maximoff are together, once they're found, your next assignment will be to locate…"

Jane stood, and went to the window, pulling the curtain aside and peering out as if fascinated by nothing. "Banner and Thor. What makes you think they're even on Earth? Thor could be on Asgard, or with his girlfriend."

"He's not with Dr. Foster. Word on the streets is that they're no longer a couple."

She came back to the table, set the glass down, and pushed it toward him. "Got something a little stronger?"

To Ross, this meant she was close to agreeing. He went to the tall cabinet in the corner, opened both doors, took out a bottle of scotch, and held it up. "Unless you prefer vodka."

"My response wouldn't help you pin down my country of origin. I don't care for scotch, vodka, _or_ Lone Star beer. And before you test me with languages, I speak several, including Russian, Italian, Spanish, German, and French. My Portuguese is a little iffy though." Jane insinuated herself into the chair, and crossed her knees. "Brandy, please. We can talk salary, and perks."

 **Wakanda**

Tugging her top into place, Wanda examined her look in the mirror. With the humidity, leggings were too warm, and the boots that came up over her knee were discarded for the same reason. She wore grey sneakers, a dark blue skirt that fluttered against her thighs, and a white tank top with a crochet design along the neckline. She added a grey shirt over it, tied at the waist.

As she stepped out into the hall, Scott was coming out of his room, dressed similarly. Navy blue shorts, a white tank t-shirt under a blue and white striped button front shirt left open, and sneakers.

They looked at each other and Scott smiled. "People will think we're doing it on purpose."

She flashed him a mock scowl of reprimand. " _People_ won't. But Clint will. Just don't let him get under your skin."

"As long as he doesn't think we're," he waved a hand between them, "getting under each other's skin, we're good." He called for the lift, and crossed his arms. "Where you headed?"

"To breakfast. You?"

Scott chuckled. "The same. Wanda…"

His eyes widened in surprise as Wanda's hands grasped the lapels of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. She kept her tongue to herself, and he did too. After that first startled moment, Scott relaxed, and put his hands on her waist. Wanda flattened her hands, sliding them up over his collar bones, and around his neck.

She felt Scott was purposely holding back, and appreciated his restraint. The last few times they were alone together, she got the feeling he wanted to kiss her, but was hesitant. He couldn't be afraid of Clint. Could he? Scott didn't seem to be afraid of much.

Now that first awkward kiss was out of the way. They could relax around each other, and work on being friends. The lift dinged as they separated. Thankfully, it was empty. Inside, Scott pushed the button for the first floor. Wanda looked over at Scott, and found him looking at her too. They smiled and faced front.

 **The Clinic**

"So what's the verdict, doc?" Hill asked as Kaya took the seat next to her.

Kaya held out a tablet using her finger to scroll through several screens. "Most of this won't mean anything to you, Ms. Hill. Essentially, when you were taken, your kidnappers drugged you, or so we've assumed. Because you have a fast metabolism, you were given a much higher dose than is normal for a woman your size. The amount of the drug used interfered the part of your brain that allows you to access memories. Because you can't remember any part of the last two years, it may have caused a psychotic break. Perhaps that's why you were being kept away from everyone else."

"How did you find out what drug they used?"

The doctor nodded at the long braid hanging over Hill's shoulder. "Your hair has not been cut for more than two years. It is literally a timeline of where you've lived, and what drugs you've taken during the time of its growth." She took hold of Hill's braid. "In your case, the drug appears around here."

She indicated a section seven inches from the ends. At the speed her hair grew, the other eight inches would indicate that Lang was right. Hill had been locked away for just over two years.

"At the time, the drug was experimental, and had only been cleared for human trials a few months before. The manufacturer has since halted production because of the severity of side effects. Permanent amnesia is one of them. I am at a loss as to how you regained your identity considering the dosage you were given."

"I had some help." Hill waved a hand next to her head. "Wanda is an enhanced individual with psionic powers. Whatever she did to me, it fixed what was wrong." She touched the lock of white hair. "Except for this."

Kaya powered down the tablet and held it in her hand. "That is another side effect, though no one quite knows why. I like it."

Hill picked up the tablet to look at her reflection. "I'm getting used to it." She put the tablet back. "What other side effects will I experience?"

The doctor looked uncomfortable and unhappy at the same time. "The drug can also cause sterility. I would have to do more tests to determine if that has happened. Shall I have the nurse schedule an appointment?"

"As soon as possible, doc. I don't want anyone else to know."

She followed Kaya out to the nurse's desk, and she left them alone. Hill made an appointment, and a few minutes later, returned to the residential floor. As she got off the lift, she heard the strangest sounds coming from the end of the hall. She tracked it to Cameron's room. He was playing the saxophone, and she had to wonder not only where he'd gotten it, but why she didn't know this about him.

 **The Dining Room**

Holding a napkin over her mouth so she wouldn't spit food all over the table, Wanda attempted to get her laughter under control. But it wasn't easy because Scott just kept talking, and gesturing with the fork in one hand, and a slice of toast in the other.

"… I've got my hands in the air, the place is _crawling_ with cops, including my ex's fiancé, and I say, 'Wait! I didn't _steal_ anything! I was bringing back something I _stole_!'"

She took a drink of juice to clear her throat, and picked up her fork. "Who called the police?"

"Dr. Pym's daughter, Hope."

Before Wanda could ask why Scott's benefactor's daughter would have him arrested, a large shadow darkened their table. They looked up to see Steve standing over them, looking serious. She wiped her mouth, and swallowed before speaking. "Steve! Would you like to join us?"

"If you don't mind. I have a favor to ask you. And it's a big one, Wanda."

Sam stepped into their conversation without an invitation to go by the scowl Steve tossed his way. "Now might not be the best time, Steve." He nodded at Scott and Wanda's linked hands. "Maybe they'd like to be alone."

"And when _is_ a good time, Sam? When we're all dead and gone? That's not gonna work for me, _or_ for Bucky."

Realizing that he'd been rude, Steve huffed at himself, pulled out a chair and sat down. Sam turned the fourth chair around, and straddled the seat. "Then go ahead. Ask her."

"Ask me what?"

Steve hesitated, then forged ahead. "Would you help Bucky, the same way you helped Maria Hill?"

 **Kostanay, Kazakhstan**

 **Near Midnight**

Natasha's eyes followed Madame B as she moved around the room. When the former Red Room matron took a seat on the sofa, she moved to the chair across from her so she could keep the woman in sight at all times.

Madame handed her a glass, and Natasha examined the liquid in the light, but didn't take a drink. She set the glass on the table, and waited for Madame to speak.

"Welcome home, Natalia."

Keeping a tight rein on her temper, Natasha snorted. " _This_ was never my home. Neither was the Red Room."

"Yet, now that you're in trouble, you've come to _me_ for comfort and guidance."

Laughing out loud, Natasha got to her feet, and moved around the room. "I don't need guidance, and if I wanted comfort, you are the last person I would seek it from."

She sipped from her glass, and held it in her hand, resting in her lap. "Then why are you here, Natalia?"

Natasha walked the perimeter of the room, dragging a gloved finger over the spines of the books on the shelves that lined the walls. "Information. When did you find out about my husband?"

One of Madame's hands covered her mouth, and her shoulder shook from laughter that quickly tapered off, though her voice still retained humor. "My dear girl, I've always known about Alexei."

Surprised, Natasha asked, "How?"

Madame went to the bar, and poured herself another drink. "Because _I_ created him." She returned to the chair, crossing her knees, and taking a sip from the glass. "Dr. Pavel Ozerov, and I worked together on that project."

Her hand clenching on the edge of the curtain as she peeked out at the moon shining on the garden, Natasha calmly inquired, "Did this project have a name? And how could you have created the man I married? Was he your son?"

"Good heavens, no." Madame crossed her legs the other way. "Pavel had a theory that genetic enhancements would be passed on to the next generation. Perhaps even improved upon, if two enhanced individuals mated, and produced offspring. As you were the Red Room's most promising student, and the first to be augmented, Dr. Petrovitch decided that you would be the one to mate with the male subject."

"You were HYDRA." Not really a surprise, though her first choice would've been KGB.

"Why, child, of course I was, and still am, HYDRA. I'm just keeping a low profile since the coup in Washington didn't go as planned." Madame got to her feet and walked over to look up at the painting of herself that hung over the fireplace. "Our project worked out better than we'd hoped when you and the male produced not one, but _two_ children from your union." She walked over to the fireplace to adjust the positioning of a figurine.

Stunned, Natasha sat on the arm of the sofa. "Wh-what…"

"A boy and a girl. Both healthy and strong." Madame folded her hands together and faced Natasha.

She tilted her head up to look Madame in the eye, to make certain she was telling the truth. "Why wasn't I allowed to see them? It would've made the years after the graduation ceremony easier."

"I doubt that. And what purpose would it have served, Natalia? We wiped your memories, and those of the Asset, of all events surrounding your encounters. For you, we implanted false memories of an aborted training session with a mysterious man, a ballet tour, and a whirlwind romance with a pilot to whom you were secretly married. You were also lead to believe that you were sixteen at the time of the _faux_ wedding when you had turned fifteen less than a month before the birth."

Clenching her fists, Natasha took an angry step toward her. "Tell me about them."

Seeming to be bored with the subject, Madame walked past her, and resumed her seat on the sofa. "In the beginning, the children were kept in the lab under the strictest quarantine. From the beginning, they had an uncanny bond that couldn't be quantified. Eventually, we realized that if our experiment was to produce the results we were looking for, the children would have to be taught to socialize with others."

"Did they have powers as you hoped?" The only way to get the answers she wanted was to play along with Madame, give her enough metaphorical rope to hang herself.

"Not immediately. Though the doctors did notice that they were maturing at an accelerated rate, along with fine motor skills, hand-eye coordination, and mental acuity, even at only a few months old."

Taking a deep breath, Natasha asked the question she most wanted the answer to. "What are their names?"

Madame finished her drink, and set the glass on the table next to her. "We simply referred to them as _malysh_ and _malyshka_. When they were adopted, the parents gave them names." She held up a hand to forestall Natasha's question. "We were not told the name of the family that adopted them. Just that they lived in Sokovia. We thought it would be better that way, though we did receive weekly reports on their progress. They stopped several years later."

"Why?"

"At the time, Sokovia was caught in the middle between two warring countries. We can't be certain, but it is believed that their home was destroyed, and the parents killed." The woman that Natasha hated more than anyone in the world looked down at her lap, as if in sorrow. Yet when she raised her head, the glass-like eyes had gone cold once more. "We lost track of them after that."

Madame's voice became background noise as Natasha remembered a conversation she overheard after the Ultron incident, not long after the new compound had been completed.

 _We were ten. My family was having dinner when the first shell hit, making a hole in the floor. Our parents fell through. The whole building shook, and started coming apart. Pietro and I were hiding under the bed when a second shell landed near us, but didn't go off. On the side was the name Stark. It took two days for rescuers to find us, and disarm the shell. And when the authorities came, they wanted to put us in separate foster homes because no one had room for siblings. We couldn't allow that so we ran away, and took care of each other for the next few years._

 _All that time, we blamed Tony Stark for killing Mother and Father. We plotted our revenge. And when Von Strucker found us, he used our thirst for vengeance, used_ _us_ _for his experiments, and look where it got us. The world was nearly destroyed, my brother is dead, and I no longer have a home to go to._

A voice Natasha had recognized as Clint's responded, _But you_ _do_ _have a home, Wanda. Here, with the Avengers. Please stay_.

Everything came together in her head. "The father of my children is…"

The tone Madame had used so far had been easy to deal with. Now, her voice and eyes hardened. "HYDRA's Asset. Some call him the Winter Soldier, but your Captain Rogers knows him as…"

"Bucky Barnes." Natasha could barely speak. It explained why, in an unguarded moment, she said he was her first. Because he _was_ her first.

"Yes." A shadow fell over Natasha, and she looked up at Madame looming over her. "And now, you will never know your children. You and your Avengers killed them when Ultron destroyed Sokovia." She leaned down to look Natasha in the eye. "How does it feel to know you murdered your own children, Natalia? Tell me! How does it _feel_?"

Enraged, Natasha attacked, and to her surprise, Madame countered each one. Before long, Natasha got the upper hand, and while Madame was vulnerable, she clamped a hand around her throat, and drove her backward. She slammed her head against the wall until Madame's nails stopped digging into her arm. "I've come up with some new tricks since I left the Red Room."

Seeing her reflection in the glass covering the painting on the wall, face twisted with rage, almost demented, Natasha backed off a bit. "You're no better than a pimp, prostituting young girls for profit. All these years, I've felt there was something missing in my heart, and didn't know what it was. I thought that love and compassion had died, killed by you and the others. But that wasn't it.

"My heart went cold the day you took my children away as soon as they were born, and never let me see them! Then you replaced my memory of carrying them, and giving birth, _and_ their father with a husband, and a ballet career that never existed.

Natasha's voice rose. "What else about my life is a _lie_? Was the fire that killed my parents an accident, or did HYDRA have them murdered just so you and Dr. Petrovitch would have another young life in your hands? Or are my parents still alive?" She got up in Madame's face. "Who _told_ you this was a good thing? That it was okay to play with people's lives and their emotions this way?"

Madame clutched her sore throat, and to Natasha's surprise, she chuckled. It wasn't a pleasant sound, filled with scorn, and mockery. "I've always known you were weak, Natalia. I told Petrovitch and Pavel so in the beginning. But you showed such promise, we allowed you to stay in the program. And now you're proving me correct in my original assessment. I told him we should've had you sanctioned immediately after the birth, but Pavel wouldn't hear of it. Said he would need blood from the parents on a regular basis to compare with the children as they grew."

At that moment, Natasha could've killed Madame B without losing a moment of sleep. The best thing to do was just walk away. Then, as she turned her back, the woman laughed again. And in the space between two heartbeats, Natasha had her up against the wall again, Widow's Bites glowing, Madame's wrinkled face looking horrid, and ugly in the harsh blue light. The woman finally seemed frightened of her, and that was good. She _wanted_ her to be scared.

Natasha leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. "I'm going to kill you for the things you've done! Not only to _me_ , but to scores of other girls as well." Madame turned away from the flickering electrical charge, and closed her eyes, not wanting to see the means of her demise.

 **TBC**

 _Malysh_ and _malyshka_ = baby boy and baby girl


	20. Memories Seep from My Veins

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Memories Seep from My Veins**

 **Wakanda**

Wanda laid her fork on the plate and picked up a piece of toast. "How can _I_ help your friend, Steve?"

He clasped his hands together on the table. "On the Raft, you were able to cure Hill of whatever was wrong with her. Is it possible to do the same for Bucky?"

"I don't know. There was physical damage to her brain, and the repairs were harder on me than they were on her. Without knowing exactly how he was programmed, I could do more harm than good."

Sam slapped him on the shoulder, and started to rise. "See? I told you…"

Wanda took hold of Sam's wrist, preventing him from leaving. "I didn't say I wouldn't _try_ , Sam." He returned to his seat, obviously intrigued as was Scott. "It would be a slow process at first because he's in cryo. I'm not even sure I can reach him in that state. The doctors would have to monitor us both quite closely."

Steve looked from Scott to Wanda. "If you two don't have anything planned, could we start today?"

They shared a look, Scott shrugged, and Wanda smiled back, taking hold of his hand laying on the table next to hers. "Of course. Will your friend be there, Steve?"

She thought it sweet the way he blushed lightly, and looked down at his hands. "I haven't talked to Kaya today, but I can. This idea would go out the window if the doctors say no."

Scott released Wanda's hand, and picked up his coffee cup. "You take care of that, Cap, while Wanda and I finish eating."

When the men had gone, Wanda punched Scott in the arm. "That was _rude_ , Scott."

"What rude? This mind meld thing has to be doctor approved before it gets the go-ahead. While he's getting the green light, we can take a walk in the garden." He held up both hands, and grinned. "I'll keep 'em in sight at all times."

She returned the smile. "Okay. So maybe it wasn't rude. Or at least Steve didn't think so." They finished eating, and went to the garden for their walk, at first, just enjoying each other's company. Up ahead, she could hear the trickle of a fountain splashing into a pond.

Wanda ran ahead, and Scott joined her where she was sitting on the side of the pond dragging her fingers through the warm water while the koi made kissing motions with their mouths.

Benches were placed in strategic locations where one couldn't be seen by another, yet all would have a view of the fountain. Everything was meant to blend into the background, to look like part of nature, providing privacy in a public setting.

They moved to the bench, and after a while, she took his hand where it lay on his thigh, and brought his arm around her, startling him at first. He relaxed, and together they enjoyed the view, and the solitude.

A small hare came out to investigate the new beings in its territory. It sniffed her shoes then Scott's, and must have found them acceptable because it chittered at them before scampering on its way.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?" His voice sounded close, and far away at the same time, as though he'd gotten lost in their surroundings.

She rested her head on his shoulder, snuggling closer. His arm tightened just a little. "Does our age difference bother you?"

The hand on her bicep that had been lightly rubbing up and down stopped for a moment, and started again. "A little." Leaning back so she could see his face, Wanda lifted an eyebrow at him. "Okay. A lot."

Her hand lay on his thigh, the tips of her fingers touching his skin below the hem of the shorts just above the knee. "Clint would rather we weren't friends. Apparently, because he and Laura want me to be a part of their family, and I've agreed, he now believes it is his duty to…"

"Load the shotgun?" Confused, she stared at him, and he explained. "You've heard of a shotgun wedding?" She nodded. "In this case, the shotgun is to prevent the need for a wedding to preserve a young woman's…" Wanda reached up to touched his cheek, "…honor."

His last word ended on a sigh.

"Clint should know it's unnecessary. I'm quite capable of defending my own honor."

~~O~~

Scott wasn't sure what Wanda was saying, and asking for details or specifics would be rude, and uncouth. Her fingers on his cheek were doing things to him that she shouldn't be doing. Not this early in their relationship. To stop her, he took hold of her hand, and held against his stomach. " _You_ know that, and _I_ know that, and so does he. Doesn't stop him from feeling the need. I'll probably do something similar when Cassie starts to date. Which, if I have my way, will be _never_."

Wanda laughed, and he was glad he could help her see humor in the situation. Now if only they could find a way to go home.

"You miss her."

"Every single day, especially while I was in prison. My ex wouldn't bring her to see me." He shifted in his seat, and Wanda reclaimed her hand, using it push the hair from her face. "My inherent sense of justice is what got me locked up, in case you were wondering. I saw myself as a sort of Robin Hood of the computer era. Stealing from the rich who stole from the poor, and giving it back to the poor. Unfortunately, I got caught, and all the money I stole from the rich and gave to the poor went back to the rich."

That startled another laugh out of Wanda. She pressed her fingers to her lips to stop it. "And you went to jail."

"Yeah. The federal government frowns on the redistribution of wealth, unless they're the ones doing redistributing in their favor."

Her mock frown made cute little wrinkles above her nose. "As most governments do." She relaxed against him in such a way that his hand moved down to her waist. "When we first met, you said, 'I know you, too. You're great!'"

"Wouldn't've said it if I didn't mean it."

"I want you to know that I really needed to hear that from someone other than my friends. What happened in Lagos…"

Scott put his other arm around her, pulling her a little closer. "I heard. It wasn't your fault, Wanda. But the news agencies don't get viewers by being nice, or giving someone the benefit of the doubt. And yes, those people died, but Steve told me what really happened. If you hadn't been there, the loss of life would've been so much worse."

"Knowing that doesn't help me sleep at night, or make up for the lives that were lost."

"Or the fact that the government calls you a weapon of mass destruction." Her hair tickled his nose, and he moved his head to stop it. "Too bad the world doesn't see you like I do."

Sitting up, and turning to face him, in all seriousness, Wanda asked, "And how _do_ you see me, Scott?"

One hand came up to brush the hair from her forehead and tuck it behind her ear. "You're smart, sweet, kind, compassionate…" he grinned, "…and sexy as hell."

Wanda parted her lips in surprise. Scott chose to see it as an invitation, and kissed her. He closed his eyes, and inhaled sharply when her small, warm hand pressed against his chest.

 **Kostanay, Kazakhstan**

For the first time Natasha could remember, Madame looked truly afraid. She wanted to kill the woman then go after the others who'd been a party to her children being taken away, and the memories removed. But she couldn't do it. She no longer was that person, the one who killed for personal gain, or just because someone had wronged her. She powered down the Widow's Bites, released Madame, and stepped back. "And this is my children's father stopping me."

Without the younger woman's support, Madame was unable to stand on her own, sliding down to sit next to the hearth. "Why would the Asset stop you from doing what you were trained for, Natalia? Why?"

"Because Bucky Barnes is a _good_ man. He's one of the best men I know, and would've been a wonderful husband and father. I'd like to think I'd have been a good mother, but again, you and your associates didn't give him, or _me_ , the chance to try."

Madame fell to the side, panting as if she'd run a marathon, but whether from fright, the momentary lack of oxygen, or because of her age, Natasha didn't know or care. She left the woman where she'd fallen, picked up the glass of vodka she hadn't touched, and downed it all in one swallow. "And stop buying the cheap vodka."

For a moment, she thought to vent the remainder of her anger by throwing the glass, but that might wake the staff, and she didn't want them to see her here. As for the cameras Madame no doubt had throughout the school, Natasha had taken care of those before she ever stepped foot onto the property.

In the car, Natasha gripped the steering wheel, and rested her forehead between her gloved hands, the thoughts in her head spinning out of control.

 _Bucky_ _is the father of my children?! Could Wanda and Pietro be ours? The similarities in the stories are too close to discount. Yet Wanda said she just turned twenty-one, and Madame said they had accelerated maturation. That would make them seventeen, which would be their true age, if ash she said, I was fifteen at the time of their birth. If their age had been given as four when they were adopted…_

Then Natasha remembered that Pietro was dead. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them. Thankfully, reason asserted itself, and Natasha relentlessly pushed her emotions down.

 _I need to do this right. DNA tests first. Then, if Wanda and Pietro are_ _not_ _mine and Bucky's children, none of them have to know. If they are…_

"We'll cross that ******* bridge when we come to it." Natasha wiped the wetness from her cheeks, sniffed, and started the car, not bothering with the seatbelt. She shifted into gear, and drove off the property onto the road that would take her back into town.

 **Wakanda**

 **The Clinic**

The clinic was unusually quiet, and Steve didn't know if that was a good thing or not. The nurse's desk was occupied by an older woman and a man in his thirties. The woman typed on the computer while the man scanned the monitors of their patients. From his position, Steve could see the one with Bucky's name on it. Strange how his friend looked like he was sleeping, as if he'd just laid down for a nap. Any moment now, he'd open his eyes and sit up, giving Steve that cocky grin. He'd smack Steve on the shoulder, call him a punk, and challenge him to a run or a game of one-on-one on the basketball court, the one sport they agreed on.

Stepping around in front of the woman, Steve smiled. "Sorry to bother you. Is Dr. Hawa on duty?"

Without looking up or slowing down, she said, "On rounds in the cryo lab."

"Thanks." Steve found Kaya with a stylus clenched in her teeth as she examined the readings on a cryo tube. Inside was a forty-ish man with scars on his chest showing multiple heart surgeries. "Hey."

Kaya looked up and smiled, turning her face up for a kiss. "Mmm. What brings you here today, Steven?"

"I need your medical opinion on something."

"Is this about Mr. Barnes?"

Nodding, Steve shoved his hands into his pockets. "How do you know if there's brain activity while he's frozen?"

She motioned, and he followed her to her office. "Cryonics, or suspended animation, is the slowing or stopping of life processes by exogenous or endogenous means without termination. Breathing, heartbeat, and other involuntary functions may still occur, but they can only be detected by artificial means. And yes, there is some brain activity while in this state.

"Mr. Barnes, however, is a special case. Like you, he was changed on a genetic level. It is quite possible that he is aware of everything going on around him, even the passage of time, but is unable to respond."

"Sounds more like a nightmare than a help."

Taking his hand, Kaya gave it a comforting squeeze. "Rest assured that we are monitoring him closely. The EEG, electroencephalogram, says there is activity, as if he were dreaming. Also, the chamber is sound proof so he will not be stimulated or disturbed by outside sounds." She watched his face for a moment. "Does that answer your question?"

"Sort of." Steve rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other. "I'll tell you my idea, and you tell me if it's doable."

"Of course."

He picked up a pen, turning it over and over. "Wanda has psionic powers. She can get inside someone's head, make them see what she wants them to see. If she could get inside Bucky's head and remove the triggers HYDRA put there then he could lead a normal life again."

"Hmm. Your idea has merit, Steven. I assume you've already spoken to Ms. Maximoff. What did she say when you approached her?"

Steve snorted, and smiled wryly. "She's willing to try, as long as it's okay with the doctors."

Kaya looked down at her hands and back to Steve. "Unfortunately, the final decision is not mine alone. Dr. Jaheem is the chief of medicine and research. He may want to gather a team to go over both Mr. Barnes and Ms. Maximoff's medical histories before making that decision."

"How long will it take?"

"Unknown. The committee could take less than a day, or several weeks." Dropping the doctor façade, Kaya took Steve's hand. "Ideally, we would also need the permission of the patient."

This time Steve chuckled. "Difficult, under the circumstances."

"Then the next of kin, or power of attorney."

Excited that he could finally make a contribution to the process, Steve said, "You've got it. Ask this Dr. Jaheem…"

"I'm sorry, Steven, but you are _not_ the power of attorney for Mr. Barnes. Ms. Romanoff is."

"And she's not here. Assuming she agrees, could the committee get started on their evaluation _now_?"

Smiling, Kaya stood, and removed her lab coat, tossing it in her chair. She pushed his foot off his knee, and sat in his lap, arms around his neck. "I've already sent the request, _my liefde_." Reaching back, she closed and locked the door. "We haven't been alone together for a while, just the two of us. I would like to… in America they call it making out."

He couldn't stop the grin that split his face. "Don't you have patients?"

Her fingers trailed through his beard, tracing his jaw around to the ear on that side. "I was just finishing when you arrived, and it's time for my break. We have the next thirty minutes all to ourselves."

Framing her face with his hands, Steve whispered, "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything."

On the last word, Steve covered her mouth with his.

~~O~~

Dr. Jaheem huffed to himself when the computer advised him he had a message. But when he opened it, all other work became of lesser importance. Kaya's request made on behalf of Captain Rogers intrigued him so that he immediately sent his approval. Though he wanted to be there for every step of the process, he had other work to complete, but that didn't mean he couldn't monitor the work from his office or lab.

 **Secret Military Base**

 **Off the Coast of Norway**

Relieved to no longer be locked up, Jane dressed in the clothing provided by the laundry. Sweats, and a t-shirt with US Army logo for working out, and uniforms for every day, at least until Ross could have her transported to the mainland. Camouflage wasn't the best color for her, but it was better than the orange, and way better than handcuffs and prison.

She wanted to get in touch with Gladiator just to let him know she was no longer working for the KGB. Again, it had to wait until she was somewhere that resembled civilization. Being on this base, even with freedom of movement, except in restricted areas, made her twitchy. She hated camping out, and being so far from everything was like going camping with several hundred men and women she didn't know.

Looking in the mirror, Jane realized that to move about freely in the world, she couldn't look like Maria Hill, who was more than likely now a wanted fugitive. Something would have to be done about her face. She would need a name too. Jane Doe had been thrust upon her by the KGB. They no longer had claims on her time, and her new name should reflect that. She liked the name Ellie, and admired Daniel Webster.

On her way to the gym, the guard who had watched over her came along side. "Sorry I had to tase you, ma'am."

"You were just doing your job, Sergeant. And don't call me ma'am."

The man seemed relieved that she wasn't holding a grudge. "Yes, ma'am. I mean Jane."

She cocked her head to the side. "Thinking of changing it. What do you think of the name Ellie Webster?"

"I like it. And you can call me Wade, _Ellie_."

"You got it, Sergeant Wade."

He laughed. "Wade's my first name. _Barber_ is my family name."

Jane, now Ellie, nodded once. "Wade then." Her companion stood five-ten, wiry, yet strong, with vaguely Asian features, black hair, and dark eyes. "I'm headed to the gym. What say we get in a little sparring?"

That didn't set well with her new friend. "Wouldn't want to hurt you, now that you're a civilian."

One side of her mouth turned up. "Not as fragile as I look. If you're worried, we can start slow."

 **Wakanda**

 **Residential Wing**

As she stepped into the hall, Hill once again heard the mournful sound of the saxophone coming from across the hall. As he did with the piano, Cameron played with passion, and great feeling. To go by the song, he was sad, and maybe a little lonely. She didn't blame him. When he came on this mission, he hadn't expected to end up in exile with no chance to give his family a heads-up.

The song ended, and Hill heard him moving around the room. A chair creaked, and she guessed he was sitting at the computer she'd seen him carrying the day before. More footsteps, and the music started again. Leaning her back against the wall, Hill slid down to sit on the floor, closed her eyes, and listened to Cameron play.

 **The Clinic**

Seeing that no one was around, Clint slipped into the unoccupied office, and closed the door before seating himself at the computer. He hacked the password in under five minutes, and quickly accessed the generic email account that he set up though an anonymous server just in case Laura and the kids had to go on the run while he was out of the country. There were seven emails in all. He located the one that had been sent at a specific time, with the subject: Biweekly Reminders & Updates.

His eyes scanned the body of the email, picking out the code words he and Laura had worked out, sighing in relief. They were at the safe house with his contact. The two older kids looked on it as an adventure, and Nathaniel was upset by the change in his routine, but was learning to live with it.

Satisfied that his family was as safe as they could be under the circumstances, Clint sent a quick response then backed out of the programs, erased his footprints, and locked the computer. Going to the door, he peeked through the crack. Seeing no one, he slipped out, and made his way to the gym. There had to be a way he could see his family. He just had to find it, and Steve was going to help him. He just didn't know it yet.

 **The Garden**

Being in Scott's arms made her feel safe in a way that was different than having friends who cared about her, living at the compound, or seeking refuge in Wakanda. Scott wanted her. She knew even without using her powers. A woman's instincts, she supposed. And she wanted him as well, but neither of them wanted to rush into anything.

Or should they?

Since the day she and Pietro had sheltered under the bed during the shelling, Wanda knew that a life could end in less than a heartbeat. They had seen it happen to their parents, and many others since.

Then Ultron came along, and it seemed like the world itself would be brought to an end before she could do all the things she'd planned when she was a child. As a teen, falling in love had been at the top of the list. At one time, she thought she'd found that with Stefan, however, he hadn't seen their relationship with the same eyes, and they'd parted ways. Later, she heard that he'd been one of the first killed when Ultron and his robot army attacked Sokovia.

At unguarded times, the memories of her brother, parents, and all the friends she lost seeped from her veins, and leaked out her eyes, bringing with them the loneliness that some people feel even in a crowded room. She was tired of sleeping alone at night, with nothing to comfort her but a pillow or stuffed bear, or even Clint reading to her. She didn't want to feel lonely anymore.

Then she thought about Vision, and his infatuation with her. For a while, she'd returned it. Until the day he kept her from leaving the compound on Tony's orders, and then again when Clint came to get her, and she had to stop Vision from hurting him.

The Archer had thought he was clever, inciting Vision to a fight he couldn't win, forcing her to choose between them. And she'd chosen Clint. Vision was driven by logic. Clint by his emotions, though he didn't let them get the best of him.

Wanda eased back to look into Scott's eyes. She smiled, and he returned it, and then they were kissing again. Scott's hand on her waist slid down a couple of inches to her hip, giving it a slight squeeze, just the barest flexing of his fingers, yet going no further.

They jerked apart at the sound of voices disturbing the serenity of the garden, and sending the birds into flight.

" _Are you sure they're here?_ "

" _This is where what's his name said he saw them headed_."

The first voice was Sam, and the second Clint, obviously looking for them. Wanda and Scott sorted themselves out, and put a little room between them as the men came into sight.

 **TBC**

 _Angel_ is a song by Canadian singer Sarah McLachlan that originally appeared on her 1997 album _Surfacing_. As McLachlan explained on _VH1 Storytellers_ , the song is about the Smashing Pumpkins touring keyboard player Jonathan Melvoin, who overdosed on heroin and died in 1996.


	21. Wishful Thinking

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Wishful Thinking**

 **The Clinic**

Sitting in a chair, Wanda waited patiently as Kaya affixed the EEG monitors to her temples, thanking her with a smile.

"Now the right hand." Kaya strapped what looked like a bracelet around her wrist. "This will monitor your vital signs. Pulse, respiration, temperature, and blood pressure. Everything will be displayed alongside Mr. Barnes' so that we can view cause and effect."

"I'm not even sure I will be able to reach his mind in this state."

Steve touched her on the shoulder. "Just _try_ , Wanda. That's all I ask."

"And if I do, it might be possible to interact with him only by entering his dreams."

Shaking his head, Steve grinned wryly. "Just don't hold anything you see in there against him."

"I won't." Wanda closed her eyes, and concentrated on reaching Bucky's mind, but all she could hear was Clint, Scott, Steve, Sam and Kaya shifting their feet, moving around, throat clearing, and clothing brushing against their skin. Things she wouldn't otherwise notice. She huffed and opened her eyes. "I can't concentrate. There are too many people here." With an apologetic smile, she looked at the men. "Could you leave us alone, please?"

Steve and Clint looked ready to protest, while Scott and Sam quietly left the area.

Kaya held up her hand. "This was your idea, Steven. If you want it to work, you must abide by any requests Wanda makes. And Clint, do not worry. I will watch over her." The women watched them leave, grudgingly at that. "How did the Avengers ever managed to get anything done with so many strong personalities in one place?"

Wanda smiled. "It wasn't easy. But Steve is quite good at creating an environment where everyone gets their chance to shine while at the same time working as an integral part of the team."

"He can be very persuasive."

The smile on Kaya's face seemed to indicate more than what she was saying, but Wanda didn't pursue the subject as Steve would likely find out, and she didn't want to embarrass him in front of his girl.

"Are you ready to try again?"

"Yes." Closing her eyes, Wanda once more reached out to touch Bucky's mind. She was about to withdraw when she felt the faintest touch at the edge of her consciousness, as if someone's coat had brushed across the back of her hand as they passed. It was there, and gone. Then back again.

* _Bucky? Can you hear me?_ *

Whispering reached her, but it was too far away for her to make out the words. Picturing herself in a field of daisies, she turned in a circle, but couldn't pinpoint the direction from which it was coming. She took one step, and came up against an invisible barrier. Using her hands as a guide, she found that the barrier stretched in all directions, keeping her from moving beyond the small area where she was standing.

Pressing against the barrier, Wanda felt it give just a little. She pressed harder, and it snapped back flinging her consciousness back into the real world.

Hands held onto to keep her from falling. She opened her eyes, and Kaya was there, looking concerned. "Wanda? What happened?"

The monitor on the table near Bucky's tube ceased its warning alarm as her vital signs returned to normal. "I can't tell if he's creating the barrier, or if it's the tube itself that is causing the difficulty. If there were a way for me to be able to touch him, it would make contact with his mind easier."

Kaya motioned, and Wanda came around to see her pointing at a port set into the side of the tube. "Will this work? The families feel better about the situation if they can touch the hand of their loved one. It makes them feel they have some sense of control. However, we can only allow it for short periods of time because the temperature within the tube must be kept within a specific range."

Wanda nodded. "Yes, that will work. Provided it is the tube that is keeping us apart, and not that he doesn't want me to make contact."

She helped Kaya switch the monitor and chair to opposite sides, and took her seat again. Kaya showed her how to open the port that was at the level of Bucky's right hand.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda relaxed as much as possible, reached in to touch Bucky's hand, and closed her eyes. A split second later, she was standing in the field of daisies again. Turning in a circle, she was surprised to see the flowers withering, shriveling up, and turning brown. A breeze came along, and blew the dried remains away until there was nothing left, just a barren landscape.

She heard a small sound, like a child crying, reminding her of the times she'd contacted Hill's mind in her dreams. Moving in the direction of the sound, she saw a lone figure standing with his back to her. His head was down, and arms hanging at his side.

 _This can't be Bucky_ , Wanda thought. _He only has one arm. This man has two_.

Approaching slowly, she held out her hand. "Bucky? Please turn around."

He ignored her entreaty, and at the same time, the crying stopped. Wanda touched him on the shoulder, urging him to face her. It was Bucky, but not the strong, fearless man who had been with them during the fight at the airport. This one had short hair, and was dressed in a tattered Army uniform. Dog tags hung around his neck. He was unshaven, and looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks. His expression was that of a frightened child, not a soldier. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why not?"

Turning away, he pointed to a red door with a black star in the upper portion. The doorknob twisted back and forth. "He's trying to get out."

"Who, Bucky?"

His eyes scanned the area, and came back to her. "The Asset. The Winter Soldier. Everything that Zola and Schmidt put in him is still behind that door. You only need the key to unlock it."

"What kind of key?"

"A-a list of words. When triggered, he complies with the commands o-of the person who says them."

Now Bucky seemed ready to bolt at any moment. To ease his fear, Wanda took hold of his hand. "Do not worry. My name is Wanda. I'll stay with you."

The thought that he wouldn't be alone in this place calmed him somewhat. "Do you know what happened to my sister, Becca? I can't seem to find her."

Wanda shook her head. "I'm sorry, no. I could ask Steve to check, if you like."

"Steve? Did he finally convince Uncle Sam to take him?"

Confused, Wanda shook her head. "I did not know that Steve had an Uncle Sam." Before Bucky could respond, Wanda felt herself being pulled away. "I have to go, but I'll be back." The wind picked up, blowing her hair and pulling at her clothes as if she were in a wind tunnel. "Don't open that door, Bucky!" She was yanked from his grip, and flung into an abyss.

 **Several Months Ago**

 **Mercy Hospital**

 **Bucharest, Romania**

The ambulance backed up to the emergency room doors, and two men got out. A nurse came toward them as they took the stretcher from the back. "What've you got for us, boys?"

The older of the two men, graying, and world weary, passed her a clipboard. "The police found him in the park sleeping on a picnic table. No ID, no credit cards, no cell phone, nothing. They're running his information through system, and will let you know if they get a hit. Until then he's all yours." The man was transferred to a bed, covered, and the sides put up.

"How long as he been unconscious?"

The younger man shrugged. "Since before we got the call. Didn't wake up, or even move the whole ride over."

The senior paramedic signed in the usual places, and waved. "Don't say we never gave you anything."

"Thanks." The nurse waved to an orderly. "Take his vital signs, and the doctor will be in soon." She looked into his face, smooth in repose, the brown hair longish, and curly. "Don't worry _iubitule_. We'll figure out who you are, and make sure you get back to your family."

 **Volgograd, Russia**

The car came to a stop, but the woman didn't get out. Not right away. She sat in the front seat wondering why she felt this sudden urge to visit the graves of her parents. After staying away for so many years, why now?

"I'm here. Might as well do this."

Strolling along the path as if she were out for a walk, Natasha looked for the plot numbers the man in the office had given her for Katerina and Samuel Romanova. She found the two small markers covered with grass, and weeds growing everywhere.

Kneeling down, she pushed the grass out of the way so she could read the engraving. Just their names, the years they were born, and died. Nothing else. Whoever had paid for the funerals spent as little as possible to mark their passing.

Natasha pulled the weeds, leaving them in a pile out of the way. Before she left, she laid a small bouquet of flowers on each grave, and stood. She said a silent prayer for them, walked back to the car, and drove away, vowing never to return. They were part of her past. It was time to look to the future. A future she wanted to share with Bucky, and their child.

 **Wakanda**

 **The Clinic**

Wanda's eyes snapped open. Kaya was holding her wrist, counting the beats. "I'm alright."

"You do not look alright."

She pushed Kaya's hands away when she tried to examine her pupils. "His mind is in great turmoil. The only part I could touch was the Bucky from when he first joined the Army. He warned me not to go into the part of his mind where the Winter Soldier is kept. He wants help, but also doesn't want to remember that part of his life, to pretend it didn't happen."

"From what I've heard from Steven, and the news agencies, I don't blame him. The poor man was tortured for seventy years. He remembers much, but there is also a large part of that time he doesn't recall. Whether it was done to him, or something he's done to himself is unknown, and will likely remain so."

Getting to her feet, Wanda smoothed her skirt down over her hips. "The only way for him to get better is to face his fears. It will be a slow process, but I can help him. While in his mind, I felt a connection that was unlike any I've ever experienced except with Pietro."

"He was your twin?"

"Yes. Killed while we fought Ultron and his robot army in Sokovia." Wanda looked up at Bucky's face. In this state, he appeared carefree, without a problem in the world.

Kaya stood next to her, also watching. "I'm sorry that the land could not be reclaimed."

"I'm not. For as long as I can remember, my country was used for target practice by the surrounding countries at war with each other. Each side would attempt to entice us to join them, and when we declined all offers, it was assumed by both sides that we had joined the other, and we were treated as such. The military was in the process of being disbanded to keep the government up and running. It was only a matter of time before the economy collapsed, and our people either died there in abject poverty, or moved on. Now, the survivors have done so, and the world has one less country to worry about fitting onto its map."

"You seem so sanguine about the events, though it could not have been easy. This very situation is why Wakanda kept to itself, seldom venturing beyond our borders, for so many years."

Tears stung the back of Wanda's eyes. She ducked her head and turned away. "And the first time you do…"

Kaya swung Wanda around to face her. "You did nothing wrong, Wanda. Remember that. It was that man, the mercenary. The one the news agencies are calling Crossbones."

"I'm not blaming myself. Rumlow stole a biological weapon. He couldn't be allowed to hold the world hostage with his threats to use it."

"But that didn't happen. The Avengers stopped him." Taking Wanda's arm, Kaya led her to the exit. "Why don't you rest, and try again tomorrow? Perhaps brief moments with Bucky's mind until he gets used to having you there."

Wanda yawned, and nodded. "I may come back later when it's quiet."

"Just check in with the nurse. I will not be here though." The smile on Kaya's face made her light up from the inside out. "Steven is taking me out to dinner."

 **The Garden**

Not normally one to brood over things she couldn't change, Hill sat in the garden, staring at the flowers and shrubs, going over everything the doctor had told her. The tests hadn't taken as long as she thought it would, and consisted of a pelvic exam, and an MRI of her abdomen.

While the drug hadn't damaged her physically, the doctor found that she had the same condition that caused her mother to die in childbirth. The doctor was careful to point out that having the same condition didn't necessarily mean the same results. With advancements in medicine, it would be possible for Hill to carry a child to full term, and survive the process.

That was what the doctor _said_. What she heard was "don't get pregnant or you'll die". She hadn't been planning on having a child, now or in the future, but at least there was the chance that she might, someday, change her mind. With this news, did she want to risk leaving a child to grow up without a mother as she did? Or was adoption the way to go? Should she have a procedure done to keep her from becoming pregnant, or let nature make the choice?

"I see you found my hiding place." Hill looked up as Cameron came into view, not certain if she wanted to talk to him now or wait until she'd sorted everything out in her mind. "Most prefer sitting by the pond, but I like it here. Quieter. Not as many people."

"Less people-y is perfect."

Chagrined that he'd interrupted her, Cameron turned to go. "I'll leave you alone then."

"I didn't mean _you_." Hill scooted to one end of the bench, and Cameron looked from her to the seat before joining her, sitting as far away as he could and still be on the bench. "Cam, have you ever gotten news that made you re-examine your priorities?"

He shrugged, and crossed one leg over the other. "Yeah. Why?"

Did she want to tell him her problems, or keep them to herself for now? The last time she had a confidant was college, and that came back to bite her in the ass. Not yet. "Just making conversation. What do _you_ want to talk about?"

His foot dropped to the ground, and he leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. "I come here _not_ to talk."

When he first arrived, it seemed as if his brain was in neutral. Now he was rubbing his hands, pushing them through his hair, scratching the end of his nose. Anything to keep from looking at her. On impulse, Hill scooted over to take hold of his hand. "Don't want to say you're lying, but you look like someone who _needs_ to talk."

When Cameron subtly tried to reclaim his hand, Hill held on. If she could get him to talk then maybe she could reciprocate.

"I… I downloaded all the info from my home computer so I could send an email to my parents. To let them know I'm okay, just in case anyone's been around asking questions."

"And?"

Cameron leaned back, and rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other. "And someone came around asking questions. Couple of guys in dark suits, mid-sized sedan with government plates. Mom said they had a search warrant for their house and car, my apartment and car, the works. Gave her the ol' 'the fate of the nation is at stake' song and dance."

"What did your mom say?"

"The usual. 'Wipe your feet', 'Don't bother the dog', 'You break it, you bought it", "Don't make a mess in my garden', 'I'll make coffee, and put out cookies'."

Hill laughed at the serious tone he used. "Sounds like your mom is quite a character."

"She doesn't hold back. I can hear her telling them off when they said I might have committed treason." He looked at her, and was smiling again. "What about _your_ mother?"

The former SHIELD commander didn't hesitate to tell the truth. "She died when I was born."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too. Wish I'd known her."

He shook his head. "Sounds like we both need comforting."

Hill didn't disagree. She leaned back, and he put his arm around her. They sat there just like that for the next hour, watching the flowers bloom, and the grass grow.

 **Secret Military Base**

 **Off the Coast of Norway**

The woman once known as Jane Doe, now going by Ellie Webster, blinked in the bright lights of the medical bay, faces in shadow hovering over her, talking softly yet urgently. She moaned, and tried to sit up.

"Whoa! Stay down. You've got a nasty bump on your head, Ms. Doe."

A male voice behind them said, "Ellie Webster. That's her name now, doc."

The doctor looked over his shoulder, and back to her. "Ms. Webster then."

"Wha' happ'n'?"

"Some sort of mishap in the gym. We've taken x-rays. Nothing's broken, just sprained. We're ready to run you through an MRI to check out the head."

Again, she tried to sit up. "'M I gon' die?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. My guess is you've got a concussion." He waved, and he and the nurse rolled the bed across the hall to the lab, her new pal Todd Barber dogging them the whole way. Todd helped the nurse get Ellie on the MRI table, and the two retreated to the control room.

Closing her eyes, Ellie did her best to stay still. She even managed to doze off. About the time the dreams started, she was awakened by the nurse and Todd. They put her back on the bed, and returned her to the ward. The doctor led Todd out into the hall while the nurse helped her into a gown.

The nurse went out, and a moment later, there was a knock at the door. " _Zakhodi_."

Todd's dark head poked around the curtain. "Say what?"

"Come in. Have a seat." The big man pulled a chair up next to the bed. "What happened?"

"Doc said to let you remember on your own. If you don't, there's big trouble." He shrugged one strong shoulder. "Got a little carried away, I guess. Sorry."

Ellie's head began to throb. She closed her eyes, and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Never apologize. It's a sign of weakness."

She opened her eyelids just a crack when Todd snorted. "Where'd the Russian accent come from?"

In the voice these people knew as normal for her, she said, "Just trying it on for size." She switched to the Russian accent again. "What do you think? Is good, _da_?"

He poured her a glass of water, stuck in a bendy straw, and held it so she could take a drink. "Needs a little work."

 **Vancouver, British Columbia**

The young man stood in the middle of the room, turning in a circle. Yes, this room would do just fine, considering he had nowhere else to go. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember anything before waking up in the hospital in Romania.

After a psychological evaluation, he'd been free to leave. However, as his memory had not returned, he didn't know where to go or what to do. Did he have family? Friends? If so, no one had come looking for him in the months since then. What about a job? Or was he a student?

The psychologist and her family had been kind enough to take him in. The hospital had him listed as Ion Popescu, but that had been a placeholder name, like calling an unknown object a thing. He wasn't a thing. He was a person. The family he lived with told him to pick a first name, and he could use their surname. From that day forward, he was known as Taylor Clancy. And when the Clancys returned to their native Canada, they asked him to come with them.

Taylor set the boxes on the floor of the closet, and went to look out the window into the back yard. Something about the view was familiar, but like everything else that seemed familiar, it stayed just out of reach. He pulled the curtains closed, shutting out the memory at a shout from downstairs.

" _Taylor! Come help move the sofa!_ "

"Coming, Adam!" He stuffed his hair up under the cap with the Vancouver Canucks logo that Adam had given him as soon as they arrived in Canada. At the top of the stairs, he stopped to retie his sneaker laces then ran down to the first floor, and out the front door to the moving truck. A middle-aged man with graying blonde hair had gotten the sofa moved as far as the top of the ramp. Taylor grabbed the closest end, and lifted.

Adam, Julia, Ryan, and Quinn Clancy had welcomed him into their family when he was released from the hospital. Though Julia tried, after months of therapy, Taylor still couldn't remember anything useful. Unless they heard him speak, no one questioned if he was truly a member of the family. And if he occasionally slipped, and called Julia Mother, or Adam Father, no one made an issue of it. Taylor felt it was just wishful thinking. He wanted a family, parents, and siblings so badly, he began turning the Clancys into that family.

Adam walked backward toward the front door, and with a touch of humor, Taylor called out, "Mind the steps, old man."

 **TBC**

 _Iubitule_ = Honey (term of endearment)


	22. My Strength, My Weakness

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **My Strength, My Weakness**

With nothing much to do, Scott went for a walk through the market. Several times, he turned to point something out to Wanda, or ask a question, only to remember he was alone. The fruit vendor who had been so kind to them the last few times they'd taken this same route smiled and waved.

He looked past, and not seeing Wanda, made a questioning shrug. Scott answered by pointing at his head and miming pain. The man nodded, and handed him two bananas. Scott had heard that they could help ease the pain of a headache, and thanked the man with a nod.

As he was walking away, Scott noticed ants were making a trail into his friend's booth. He glanced around, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and concentrated on the ants. At first, progress was slow. Then, a little at a time, the ants changed direction, giving the booth a wide berth. He sent a message that this booth was off limits to all ants, and for them to spread the word then continued his walk with a self-satisfied grin. _Yeah. I still got it._

It was well past noon when he returned to the residential wing. He still had the bananas, and knowing the fruit vendor would ask about Wanda's presumed illness the next time they saw him, he knocked lightly on her door. She opened the door with a hand over her mouth covering a yawn.

"Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay. Bucky's is such a strong mind," she shook her head, "it drains me to be in there for any length of time."

Scott was immediately concerned. "If you don't want to do it, tell Steve."

"No, it's fine. Once he gets used to having me there, it won't be so bad." She saw the bag in his hand. "What's this?"

"Bananas. Our fruit seller friend sent them. Told him you had a headache. Apparently bananas help." He handed her the bag. "Here you go. That way, when we see him again, you can truthfully say you ate them."

Wanda looked inside. "There's two. Don't you want one?"

Shaking his head, and grinning, Scott shoved his hands in his pockets. "In my opinion, the only thing bananas are good for are as a foundation for a banana split."

Her laugh was spontaneous, and sweet, as was the hug she gave him. Scott's hands held onto her waist, and she pressed against him in a way that was less than platonic. Her warm breath puffed against the side of his neck, and his body reacted so quickly, he started to push her away before she noticed. However, her sharp inhale told him it was too late.

Rather than make an issue of it, Scott eased away. The arm she had around his neck slid down his back to his waist. Their eyes met, and he leaned in for a kiss. He felt the barest touch of her tongue on the crease of his lips, and wanted to take her up on her offer, but now wasn't the time. There was too much for them to deal with that adding this intense element would skew their thinking. Scott was about to say just that when they were interrupted by Clint.

The archer looked from one to the other, and though he kept his expression neutral, Scott could see irritation in his eyes.

"What's going on?"

The tone of his voice was accusatory, and Scott could feel Wanda's resentment across the small space between them. She stopped short of growling, and Scott stepped back.

Her eyes narrowed, matching Clint's irritation with her own. " _Nothing_ is going on, Clint. Scott merely wanted to give me a banana."

"He _what_?" It was obvious that Clint misunderstood.

Huffing, Wanda opened the bag, and drew out one of the bananas. "It's for my headache."

Grinning sheepishly, Clint waved a hand. "Oh."

Shoving the banana back in the bag, Wanda reached into her room and set it out of the way. "I know what you thought, and it's none of your business, Clint." Her tone softened as she stepped into the hall to take his hand. "Just because we're family now doesn't mean you can control my life. If you have something to say, I'm willing to listen, but leave Scott alone." She looked at Scott. "And you, don't go out of your way to antagonize Clint."

Chastised, the men glanced at each other and away, silently agreeing.

"I'm going back to my nap. Behave."

Wanda closed the door in their faces, leaving them standing. At the same time, they turned toward the stairs. Clint remarked, "I don't care what their age. Women are crazy."

Scott snorted. "No kidding. I have an ex-wife, a daughter, and several ex-girlfriends. Every one of them are nuts."

"Same here, but she's the wife, not an ex."

Sobering, Scott followed Clint down to the first floor. "I heard. Also gathered it was supposed to be a secret. Your family, I mean. And Stark outed 'em to the world."

"Yeah, well, Tony's never been subtle when going after something he wants." In the main lobby, Clint stopped Scott with a hand on his arm. "Look, man, sorry about getting on your case about Wanda. It's just that she doesn't have anyone except for the Avengers, and my family. I wanna make sure…"

"I'm…" Scott took a deep breath, and let it out. "Clint, I want you to know… I like her. A lot. She doesn't care that I've been to prison, and can't hold a real job. We have fun together, and I don't mean that the way you think. We talk, we walk, we laugh, we play cards, watch movies, hang out. Just like friends who have this extra little element that's always there, hiding under the surface. If or when something comes of that extra element, it's our business, and not yours."

Clint crossed his arms, staring at the middle of Scott's forehead for a long time. Then, he nodded once, and pointed his chin at the gym. "You up for sparing?"

"Sure. And you don't have to take it easy on me. I've done this before."

"Yeah? With who?"

Scott couldn't stop a grin from spreading. "Hope Van Dyne."

"Pym's daughter?"

The good humor Scott had been projecting faded. "Yeah. We kinda dated for a while. But that's over now."

"Sorry, man." Clint gestured at the room. "Pick your poison. Ever use the katana, or bo-staff?"

"No. Never."

Clint picked out a bo-staff, and Scott caught it, watching Clint choose one for himself. The archer spun and twirled the seventy-inch staff as if it were nothing, and Scott wondered what he'd gotten himself into this time.

~~O~~

Shaking her head at the denseness of men, Wanda went back to her bed and sat on the side, thinking about being inside Bucky's mind. He told her that there was a list of words that triggered his rampages as the Winter Soldier. Without clues, there was no way to know what the words were. And for certain he wouldn't tell her. Not that she needed the list to help him, but if she knew which words to avoid, that would be good. Natasha knew the words, but she was so protective of Bucky that Wanda couldn't count on her sharing, even if she were here. On the other hand, if it would help end HYDRA's hold on him…

Maybe she could find out about Bucky's sister, Becca. She put her shoes on, and went looking for Steve. He would know more about his friend's family than could be found on the Internet.

As luck would have it, Steve was just getting off the lift. Wanda waited for him with a smile. "You'll be happy to know that I should be able to help Bucky."

"Was it bad in there? In his head?"

The truth wouldn't keep Steve from feeling bad about asking, so she lied. "Not so much. It's just a slow process. He needs to learn to trust me, to let me look at parts of his life he would rather were kept private, or that he doesn't want to remember."

"Understood. Now, if you don't feel comfortable doing this…"

"It's not that, Steve. He mentioned a name. Perhaps you can help me find her. Becca."

Steve looked at the floor for a moment. "His sister, Rebecca. Like Peggy, she's in an extended care facility, but in Brooklyn. I went to see her a few times, but her mind is gone. Thought I was her doctor. Never got a chance to tell him."

They walked toward their rooms. "The Bucky I met was from the war, yet he knows about the Winter Soldier. What should I tell him about his sister?"

"Just that she had a family, and a full life. Anything more can come later."

"Of course." He seemed in a rush though it was apparent he wanted to hear what she had to say. "I know you're busy, so I'll let you go. Have a good evening."

 **Secret Military Base**

 **Off the Coast of Norway**

Ellie finally convinced Todd that she would be fine, and the Sergeant left her alone. Used to being on her own, she couldn't take his hovering any longer. Plus, she needed to think.

Memories of a time before her training with the KGB teased her. At first close then flitting out of reach when she tried to examine them in more detail. For nearly twenty years, that part of her life had been inaccessible. Why now? Was it the blow to her head? Had the injury opened up blocked pathways in her mind?

She closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep. The dream started almost immediately.

The scene before her looked odd, as if she were seeing it through a telescope, or binoculars, giving her the impression that she was far away from the people standing on the raised platform. They were applauding, and cheering for the man at the podium as he gave a speech.

The man had to die. Why, Ellie couldn't say. She inhaled, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger. Too late to stop the shot, she saw the man bend down to pick something up. Her shot missed, and hit the woman standing behind him. She jerked, and fell backward off the dais.

The crowd screamed, and ran in all directions. Men in uniforms grabbed the others on the platform, spiriting them to safety while the one in charge mouthed orders into a walkie-talkie.

She had to get out of the area, and fast. On her way down from the roof, she removed the wig, and coveralls worn over her clothing, emerging into the light dressed as though she were a young girl on her way home from class.

A security guard tackled her, and another bent her arms behind her back, straining the shoulder, and elbow joints. Handcuffs were snapped around her wrists, and she was dragged forward to be shoved into the back of a police car.

With her hands behind her back, she removed the handcuffs, leaving them where they wouldn't be seen. The car pulled up in front of a police station, and as the door opened, she attacked, taking down at least five experienced officers in order to get away.

Running from one hiding place to another, Ellie, or the person she once was, managed to evade pursuit. She stole clothes from a thrift store, changed in the alleyway, and walked down the sidewalk past one outside café after another until she could steal a cell phone. She made a call, speaking in code, and then tossed the phone into the river as she crossed the bridge to the rendezvous point.

Within hours, she was standing in front of a woman with a hard expression, being taken to task for getting caught, and possibly exposing the Red Room's existence to the public.

Ellie watched herself being taken to her room, and locked inside. Hours later, she was blindfolded, gagged, and bound hand and foot. She was then driven out of town, and left on the side of a road so far from the city that its lights couldn't be seen in any direction. She removed the bonds on her wrists and ankles, and started walking. The road was unpaved and rough on her bare feet, and all of her weapons had been taken. To her right, she heard cattle lowing in the dark. A car motor up ahead that told her she was going in the right direction, though it would likely be gone by the time she reached the next road.

She'd walked about a mile when her senses alerted her to the presence of another. Poised to strike, the girl Ellie used to be readied herself for a fight.

The snap of a twig seemed too convenient, allowing her to locate her target. She swung her arm in a roundhouse punch that would've knocked an ordinary man unconscious, crying out in pain when she was stopped by her opponent. All she could see of him was the silvery metal of his left hand as he crushed the bones of her hand. He released her, and she fell to her knees, cradling the broken appendage against her stomach as she attempted to fight back. He was so much stronger than she that her attempts at defense proved futile, only prolonging the inevitable as he hit her over and over.

And when he paused, she lay huddled on the ground, bloodied, and broken, barely able to move, as her opponent came in for the final blow. Pretending to be unconscious, she didn't cry out as he slung her over his shoulder, and carried her through the woods to a large pond. As if she were nothing more than a stone or pebble, he threw her into the dank water. Her injuries were too painful for her to tread water until he was gone. Something touched her foot, and she inhaled water that tasted of dirt, and algae, and who knew what else.

Eventually, she realized that it would be easier for her to just let death take her than to fight. And once she did, Ellie-whose true name was Yelena Belova-felt peace for the first time since arriving at the Red Room.

Darkness descended over her, and she no longer felt the pain.

~~O~~

Ellie bolted upright in bed, clawing at her throat and panting. The monitor's alarms were going off, and hands gripped her shoulders. The nurse and a doctor were on either side of the bed. The doctor plunged a needle into the port of her IV, and the alarms quit blaring. She stopped fighting them, and was soon asleep.

When she awoke, the sun was shining, and her stomach was growling. She threw back the covers, and put her feet over the side. Gripping the edge of the mattress, Ellie let the events in her dream that wasn't a dream wash over her. She remembered everything up to the moment she was thrown into the pond, even her real name, Yelena Belova. Her next memory was of waking up in a hospital. The next few months were a blur of surgeries, and painful physical therapy.

And when the last of the plastic surgery was done, Jane, as they called her, had no recollection of the face in the mirror. She knew that the doctors had done the best they could in putting her back together after a beating so severe, her cheek bones and jaw had been broken at the hands of a mercenary hired for his lack of scruples, and cheap rates.

She went along with everything that Ross said, making up answers that would satisfy his curiosity, and ensure he continued to trust her.

On the day she was due to be taken back to the U.S., Ross had presented her with all the fake documents needed to convince people she really was Ellie Webster. Her first stop, according to the itinerary she'd been given by Ross, was at a facility where she would receive more surgery to change her appearance. What he didn't know was that, now that she had her memories back, she had her own agenda that superseded anything he or anyone else wanted.

 **Wakanda**

Sitting at the desk/table combination in his room, Cameron used an online tuner to tune the sax until he was satisfied. He ran the scale up and down, and went right into a song. A knock on the door startled and annoyed him. Mostly, his companions just left him alone. All except Hill who seemed to think it was her sacred duty to see to it he didn't stay in his room all the time. Steve came by to check on him now and then, apparently feeling it was his duty as their leader.

Cameron opened the door, and sure enough, his unwanted visitor was Hill. "Yeah?"

She peered over his shoulder. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Frustrated, and annoyed, and just tired with the whole mess, he stood back and waved her in. "You can have the chair."

He sat on the side of the bed, but Hill didn't take a seat. She roamed around the small room, making no comments about his clothes in a pile in the corner, the unmade bed, or the food tray on the desk.

Cameron thought she was going to pick up the sax, but all she did was drag a finger over the keys, somehow making the gesture appear sensuous. His laptop was powered up, and he rushed to close it before she saw the background photo, but it was too late. It was a webcam shot of Cameron with the imposter. Both were laughing, and seemed to actually be in love.

Hill opened the laptop again, looking from him to the monitor, and back. He shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging sheepishly. "Guess I should delete that."

"Yes, you should."

Her words, and tone suggested there was more to what she was thinking than that he'd been a fool to be taken in by a KGB agent. "Was there something specific you wanted, Commander?"

"Maria," she corrected. "And yes there is. Several somethings." Her arms crossed over her chest drawing his attention. Cameron looked away before she got it into her head that he was staring at her breasts. "Why did it take so long for you to figure out she wasn't me?"

Cameron chuckled uncomfortably, turning away, and rubbing the back of his head. "I did figure it out, sort of. Any time she asked me questions that you would already know the answers to, she made it seem like she was testing my memory.

"And I was so flattered that someone of your, uh, her standing wanted to be with me that I didn't look too deep. My subconscious, though, it had other ideas. Without knowing why, I changed all my passwords, and add extra layers of encryption, even to my home computers.

"Once I broke up with her, took a step back, I could see the situation a little clearer. And…"

Hill held up a hand. "Wait. _You_ broke up with _her_ , not the other way around?"

"We did break up once before, for about a week. Then one night she just showed up at my apartment, wanting to get back together. Said she missed me. Stopped trolling for information, so I guess maybe she really liked me."

"Huh."

The tone of Hill's voice got his ire up. "Look, I may not be the most charming, or best looking guy in the world, a-and I'm more than a little neurotic, but I've had my share of…"

"It wasn't an insult, Cameron." Hill smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. Not like when they were working on the helicarrier, and she did it just to be polite. "In fact, I find you quite charming."

Confused, all he could say was, "Um, what?"

His guest sat on the side of the bed, and patted the spot next to her. Wondering what the hell was going on, Cameron sat beside her with his hands on his thighs. She reached over, and took his right hand. "I'm not good at this.

"At what?"

"Letting a man know I'm interested."

His confusion increased when Hill turned him toward her. "Interested? In _what_?"

"In _him_." Her thumb traced the curve of his cheekbone on that side, and that sweet smile was back again. "Cam, I'm interested in _you_."

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and cleared his throat. "I, uh…"

Whatever he was going to say vanished when Hill kissed him. She was patient, and soon he responded to her. Closing his eyes, Cameron turned to the side, and touched her knee. When she didn't object, that hand slid along the outside of her thigh, stopping on her hip.

Hill separated their mouths, and smiled. In response, he kissed her again, and wrapped his free arm around her waist. She leaned back, taking him with her until they were lying on the bed. He dropped his knee between her thighs as his left hand continued its journey up to her ribs.

A flash of reason told him to stop before they went too far, and he started to move away. Then Hill took hold of his hand, and slid it up under the hem of her top. Cameron kept going after she let go, swallowing her gasp when he reached his goal.

And when she grasped handfuls of his shirt and pulled it up so she could run her nails lightly over the skin of his back, Cameron was lost, and didn't care if he was ever found again.

 **Kostanay, Kazakhstan**

 **The Next Day**

Jane Doe AKA Ellie Webster AKA Yelena Belova stopped the car, shut off the engine, and stared at the imposing edifice spread out before her. If the person she was looking for wasn't here, she had several more places she could check out. But all her instincts said this was the one.

Getting out, she clamped thermo-imaging goggles over her head, switched it on, and began the arduous hike up the hill. When she reached the front of the building, she made a scan, detecting three warm bodies at the back of the house sleeping, and one moving around in what Ellie supposed was the library.

Even considering the late hour, she wasn't surprised that she was up. The woman inside had always preferred the night to the day. Like a vampire favored moonlight over sunlight. An apt description for someone who fed off the misery of others.

Staying low to the ground, Ellie went around to the library door where she heard the woman speaking on the phone.

"… _Yes, Natalia was quite stunned to find out that she had been used in an experiment to create more Inhumans. And even more so that she and her beloved Avengers had killed the offspring she had created with the Asset… The Science Ministry need not involve itself. I do not think she will return. She is not the Natalia we both remember from the Red Room. She's become soft, and filled with sentiment… Why should I sanction her? Isn't it enough that her children died at her own hand? Of course…_ _Spokoynoy nochi_ _, Pavel_."

Pavel? The only man by that name involved with the Red Room had been Dr. Pavel Ozerov. And now he was head of the Ministry of Science? Not a surprise. He'd never made it a secret that that was his ultimate goal. The phone was set aside, and the woman went back to writing in her notebook.

Ellie opened the library door, stepped inside, and pulled it shut behind her. This part of the room was in shadow, and she knew that the other woman couldn't see her face. All the better. It would make the reveal of her true identity just that much more shocking.

"I've known you were here since you stepped onto the property. Show yourself."

Making it seem as if it were her own idea, Ellie moved into the light. "Hello, Mother."

 **TBC**


	23. Why Some Animals Eat Their Young

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Why Some Animals Eat Their Young**

 **Wakanda**

 **The Cryo Lab**

Moving quietly, Wanda crept to the nurse's station. Peeking around the corner, she saw two women working diligently. There was only one way to get past them without being seen. Though she promised Clint not to invade other people's minds, he didn't forbid her from using a bit of trickery.

She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, and flicked it in the direction of the women. As if they'd heard a noise that was out of place, they got up and went down the side hall out of sight. Wanda took that opportunity to tiptoe into the cryo lab, and ease the door shut.

The chair next to Bucky's cryo tube had been replaced with a recliner. She smiled at Kaya's thoughtfulness, and sat down. Pushing back so the foot rest was elevated, she inhaled deeply, exhaled, and opened the port near Bucky's right hand.

The moment they touched, Wanda was whisked into the same scene as before, but this time she was alone. No Bucky. And instead of one door, there were many, stretching into the distance in both directions. Each door had a date, and a name or brief description.

Tentatively, Wanda tried a couple of the doors, finding that they weren't locked. She didn't know what she was looking for, a specific memory, or one that he was refusing to acknowledge that she had to force him to relive. But would she even know it when she saw it?

As she moved down the line of doors, she also noticed that they weren't in any particular order. Finding the right one would be more difficult than she thought.

 _Stevie 1922_

She opened the door and peeked in, smiling when she saw that it was the first time Bucky and Steve had met. They took to each other immediately, playing quietly while their parents talked in the living room. At this age, the two were approximately the same height, with Steve being thinner.

The door automatically shut behind her as she moved down the line. Cold prickled at her feet, and she looked down to see a light fog building up. The chill and fog crept up to her knees, making her skin feel cold to the touch. She rubbed her arms, looking around for clues.

Up ahead, Wanda saw a door pop open an inch or so. Flakes of snow fluttered out, and an icy cold wind made her shiver. There was an odd blueish light, and she could hear men's voices.

Putting a hand on the door, she pushed it open, and suddenly found herself standing on an icy cliff overlooking train tracks. The wind blew her hair back, and ice and snow crystals in her face. The warmth of her skin melted them, and the wind refroze them, making her shiver in spite of the cold weather gear she wore.

Looking down, she found her pajamas had been replaced by a navy blue pea coat, dark brown uniform pants, calf-high Army boots, and a brown ammo belt. The strap of a rifle hung over her right shoulder.

Steve stood to her right wearing his WWII Captain America uniform without the mask, and the shield strapped to his back. Behind them were the rest of the Howling Commandoes grouped around an old style radio.

Over the wind, she heard the mournful sound of a train whistle as the locomotive came around a sharp curve.

As if she actually were Bucky, Wanda said, "Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?"

Steve moved a little closer to the edge. "Yeah, and I threw up?"

"This isn't payback, is it?"

"Now why would I do that?" was Steve's deadpan reply.

The next few minutes seemed to pass quickly as they soared over the chasm to land on top of the train. With each step, Wanda felt as if she would fall, and she, or rather Bucky, would die here and now.

Finally, she and Steve were inside the train, and out of the wind. Steve moved down the left, while she inched along the right past the cargo stacked in the middle.

The door closed between them, and Wanda automatically raised the weapon to fire at the enemy solder behind her. She ducked down to catch her breath, and popped up to fire off several more rounds, keeping the other guy busy.

In the other car, she could hear Steve engaging with another enemy soldier, but couldn't take her attention from what she was doing to wonder if he would be okay because the rifle was out of ammo. She pulled out the handgun on her left hip, and fired at the other guy as she moved over to the left, and dropped behind a stack of cargo containers.

Wanda took a moment to reload, and returned fire until the hammer clicked on an empty chamber. And in that moment, with her back pressed against the ice cold metal, she felt the same paralyzing fear that had to have plagued Bucky. Then the door between compartments opened, and Steve tossed her a magazine. She ejected the spent one, shoved the full one home, and together, she and Steve took out the last enemy.

Bantering talk between the friends was interrupted by another enemy soldier's appearance. There was a flurry of gunfire. Steve pushed her behind him, and brought the shield up to protect them both. The blast from the enemy's weapon punched a huge hole in the side of the car, peeling back the metal like it was taffy, and knocking Steve against the opposite wall.

Getting to her feet, Wanda picked up the shield, grabbed the gun on the floor, and fired back. Again, the enemy's weapon hit the shield, and because she didn't have the same upper body strength that Steve had, she was blown out the hole.

At the last moment, she was able to grab onto a pipe, the cold metal biting into the skin of her hands while her feet flailed in the air.

Steve climbed out onto the broken metal, calling out, "Bucky! Grab my hand!" and reached for her.

The pipe came loose, and Wanda fell through the frigid air, bouncing from one sharp crag to another, until she hit the ground far below.

Sometime later, her head spun as she opened her eyes, grateful to be alive after the fall, and also puzzled as to how she could have survived.

A group of men were dragging her through the snow and ice, and when she looked down, she saw that her left arm was missing. Closing her eyes, she screamed and kicked out. The hands released her feet, and when she opened her eyes, she was lying outside the door.

Wanda crawled to the door, grabbed the knob, and slammed it shut, blocking out the wind, snow and ice, but not the memories. Her energy spent, she collapsed with her back against the wall, panting from the massive amounts of adrenaline still coursing through her system.

~~O~~

The knock on his door startled Scott awake. He moaned as he climbed painfully to his feet, and padded across the room. The lights of the hallway had been dimmed to simulate night, for which he was thankful considering the pounding inside his head. "Yeah?"

Wanda's eyes widened, and he could only speculate on the sight he presented after the drubbing Clint had given him.

"Scott? Are you alright?"

"Oh, hey, Wanda. Yeah, fine. Just a little bruised." He backed up when she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her hand touched his side, and he winced. "Ow!"

Taking his hand, she drew him over to the side of the bed, and had him sit. Getting down on her knees, she lifted his shirt, gasping at the bruises. Peering at his face, she lightly touched the area around a small cut. "What happened? Did Clint do this?"

He felt anger coming off of her in waves. Fearing what she might do to the archer, Scott grabbed her hand before she could leave. "It's my own fault, really. Should've known better than to spar with an Avenger who's playing surrogate dad to a beautiful young woman."

One side of her mouth turned up. "Ah. He, how do they say it, took you to school?"

Because laughing made his ribs hurt, Scott merely smiled ruefully, waving a hand. "Kindergarten, all the way through grad school. He wiped the floor with my _ass_ , and like an idiot, I agreed to a rematch next week."

With a mild look of reprimand, Wanda lifted his feet onto the bed, and he didn't object or fight it as his head hit the pillow. She pulled the covers up to his chest, and sat next to him with her hand holding his where it lay on his stomach. "I could get you something from the nurse for the pain."

"Nah. It only hurts when I breathe, cough, laugh, or move." Her thumb rubbed over his knuckles, and before long, the pain started to recede. For a moment, Scott wondered if she was using her psionics to lessen his discomfort, and immediately dismissed the notion. If she did or didn't, didn't matter. He felt good enough to sleep now, and that's all he cared about. That and… "Why are you here?"

"I…" Wanda blushed lightly, and looked away. Scott touched her chin, and she faced him again. "I had a bad dream, and you were the first person I thought of. Could I stay with you tonight?" One eyebrow rose cheekily as she held her hands up, and wiggled her fingers. "I'll keep them in sight at all times."

Half asleep, Scott opened his mouth to say no, but the word never came out. Wanda circled to the other side of the bed, lifted the covers, and scooted over to snuggle against his side. He wrapped an arm around her, his fingers resting on her waist where the top had ridden up, leaving a small expanse of smooth skin uncovered.

Their position gave him all sorts of ideas, none of which had anything to do with sleeping. Wanda's small hand lay on his chest, and soon, they were both asleep.

 **Kostanay, Kazakhstan**

Madame B's eyes widened at the sound of her voice, unchanged by all the surgeries after the unsuccessful attempt on her life. There was a brief lull, in which Ellie saw a range of emotions flitting through her mother's eyes without reaching her features.

She came out from behind the desk, arms outstretched to embrace her. At the last moment, Ellie avoided her touch.

"What's wrong, _solnyshko_? I'm so happy to know that you're alive."

"Don't _call_ me that. I'm _not_ your little sun. I never was. You always used that name as a curse rather than an endearment, blaming me for my father leaving once he found out you were pregnant."

In less than a heartbeat, her mother's attitude changed, returning to that blank mask she'd worn nearly all of Ellie's life. "But your father didn't leave me. Not in the sense that you mean. He was married to another at the time you were conceived. In fact, I spoke to him just tonight."

Keeping her features neutral, Ellie tried not to react to the fact that Pavel Ozerov, one of the doctors who oversaw the health of the girls, was her biological father. "Then tell me this: _Why_ would you have me sanctioned? I'm your _daughter_. You were supposed to _protect_ me."

Her mother took a seat on the end of the sofa. "I wasn't the one who ordered the sanctioning, Yelena. When I found you were gone, I assumed that you'd left of your own accord out of embarrassment, and to avoid the punishment you knew was coming."

Roaming around the room, touching the spines of the books, a photo here, a knick-knack there. Ellie laughed. A harsh, grating sound. "Oh, you sound _so_ convincing, Mother, but we both know it was your doing. I was an embarrassment to you. In your eyes, I wasn't good enough to complete the program, and become one of the infamous Black Widows. And if anyone knew that we were related, you wouldn't have been able to handle the humiliation, and ridicule it would bring you with your peers. Well, that's a two-way street, Mother, because you were an embarrassment to me as well. I was so ashamed of the things you did to the girls, and to _me_ , I prayed every night that no one would discover our secret."

"And to my knowledge, no one ever did. Seems we both got our wish."

Ellie moved around in front of her mother again, and for one of the few times in her life, the woman appeared concerned. Perhaps it was the fact that Ellie now held two of her mother's prized possessions: a six-inch antique porcelain statue of a man and woman embracing, and a sixteenth century executioner's sword.

She stood, both hands reaching for the items, intending to take them from her. "Sit down!" Ellie ordered, the tone of her voice so filled with venom, her mother returned to her seat, eyes wide with shock.

"Give those to me, child, before you damage them."

"How well I remember those exact words being spoken on numerous occasions, Mother." Her grin turned malicious as she turned and threw the statue at the wall, shattering it. Holding the sword in both hands, Ellie moved the tip in a figure eight as she circled around behind her mother. "I was never allowed to indulge my curiosity, or to engage in any activities that you deemed frivolous. No dolls, coloring books, or other toys for _your_ child. Just studying, and training. Nothing that brought me joy or even a moment's happiness."

"True happiness is a lie." She exhaled loudly. "Put the sword away, Yelena."

Her mother's posture, always tall and straight, stiffened even more at the touch of cold steel on the side of her neck. "Don't call me that. I haven't been Yelena for almost twenty years. In fact, I haven't been anyone for any length of time. Just long enough to complete a mission. Then it was on to the next one."

"What _should_ I call you?"

"The name I chose for myself. Ellie Webster."

Her hands dropped to her sides. "Everything I did was for the best, _Ellie_. For the girls, and for Russia after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The only way we could retain our position as a world super-power was with the most up-to-date intelligence available."

Her mother's shoulders relaxed when she removed the blade from her flesh. "And torturing young girls was the only way to accomplish that goal? You sound like HYDRA."

The laugh that came from her mouth was filled with scorn, and contempt. "So you've discovered the secret I managed to keep all these years. Rest assured that HYDRA _will_ rise and take its place as rulers of the world. Washington was a minor set-back. Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place!" Madame made a scornful sound. "I will come back even stronger."

On the last word, Ellie swung the sword, neatly severing her mother's head from her body. Crouching next to the woman who'd given her life, she watched the blood soaking into the antique Persian carpet as her heart continued to pump. She grabbed a handful of hair, and lifted the head even with hers, the dead eyes staring sightlessly into the dark, the mouth open in a silent scream.

As Ellie left by the library door, she took several small grenades from the pocket of her cargo pants, and lobbed them into room. She turned and ran from the scene, not even slowing down when a series of explosions blew debris into the air that landed all around her. The others in the home would have ample time to get out before the fire consumed everything, but unlike the phoenix, nothing would arise from the ashes.

Standing next to her car, Ellie listened to the sirens, their wailing shrieks getting closer with every moment. "Let's see you come back from _that_ , Mother."

She placed the head in a box in the trunk, got into the car, started the engine, and drove away without a backward glance.

 **In the Morning**

 **Kaya's Apartment**

Steve awoke to the smell of food cooking, his stomach rumbling in response. He rolled out of bed, pulling his boxers and pants on as he crossed to the hall door. The enticing scent was stronger here. Once he closed the bathroom door, he could literally hear his stomach gurgling.

After washing his face, he ran wet hands through his longish hair, thinking about having it cut. He's let both the hair and beard grow for a different look. The whole clean-cut, boy next door was Captain America's thing. He'd given up that mantel when he left the shield with Tony in Siberia. Who knew if he'd ever take up the responsibility again? If the need was great enough, maybe. Only then would he go back to the short hair, and shave every morning.

The sound of the table being set reminded Steve he was a guest in someone else's home. He returned to the bedroom to finish getting dressed, quickly tied his shoe laces, ran his hands through his hair one more time, and went to join Kaya in the kitchen.

He leaned in the doorway watching his girl use a spatula to scoop scrambled eggs onto a plate that already held brown sausages, and some kind of flat bread. The coffee pot gurgled, and stopped. With a smile, Steve came up behind Kaya, wrapping his arms around her waist, and kissing her on the ear. "Morning."

"Closer to noon, I think," she told him, relaxing into his embrace.

He let her go, took two cups from the cabinet, and while she filled them, carried the plates to the table. He held her chair, sat down himself, taking the napkin and draping it over his lap. "I had a good time last night."

Over the rim of her cup, Kaya wiggled her eyebrows, and grinned. "So did I."

"At the _night club_." At her odd look, he rephrased his comment. "What I meant was I didn't know you could jitterbug."

She glanced over at the plastic trophy on the counter. "It's a good thing I could, or we wouldn't have won the dancing contest. Where did you learn?"

"Natasha. Bucky taught me to tap dance when we were kids. We entered a contest at school, and came in third place." They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Steve looked at the clock. "You don't have to work today?"

Shaking her head, she wiped her mouth and picked up her coffee cup. "I'm on call. It's my day off, but if I'm paged, I have to go in. Why?"

Steve held out his hand, and she placed hers in it. "Let's go for a drive."

 **An Hour Later**

Kaya held tightly to Steve's waist, clamping her lips together to keep from screaming. He slowed down for a turn, and sped up again on the nearly deserted road far from the city. Raising her voice to be heard over the roar of the engine, she shouted, "When you said we were going for a drive, I didn't know you meant on a motorcycle!"

"You've been on one before, right?"

"I have _not_!" she confessed.

In response, Steve slowed down. "I didn't realize. Want to go back?"

"No. It would've been nice to at least have a hint."

He laughed. "I thought the suggestion that you wear pants was a clue." Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, he asked, "How much farther?"

"A few miles yet. There's a turn-off to the right, and a sign pointing the way."

"This is the picnic place?"

She hugged him tighter, happy that he'd remembered what was supposed to have been their first date. "Yes. My family used to come here often."

"Speaking of family, when do I get to meet yours? Besides T'Challa."

"My parents are out of the country for my father's work. He is the Wakandan attaché to the U.N."

The side of his face that she could see showed a sad smile. "You must miss them."

"I have friends, and work to keep me busy, as well as the occasional royal family gathering." Kaya nuzzled his ear. "And now I have you."

Steve reached back to touch her thigh. "Yes, you do."

 **The Residential Wing**

 **Early Morning**

Cameron quickly typed an email to his parents, and sent it off. He was debating sending emails to his friends to let them know he was alright, in spite of what they might've heard or been told, when he heard the bed creak, and a moment later, a hand brushed across his bare shoulders. Hill came around to sit in his lap, taking the pen clamped in his teeth so she could give him a kiss. She tossed the pen on the table, and reached over to toggle the screen to the desktop.

"Was about to delete it. Sorry."

"Don't be." Hill typed a few commands, and pressed enter. The webcam screen came up, showing the two of them together. She put her arm around his neck, and leaned down for a kiss while her free hand tapped Enter. A few more commands, and the background was replaced with the screenshot she'd taken. "Much better."

Uncertain if he should be taking liberties even after the night they spent together, Cameron held Hill around the waist with one hand while the other brushed at the white hair over her right eye, tucking it behind her ear. "Yes, it is. Um, I mean…"

"I know what you mean, Cam." The hand behind his shoulders toyed with the hairs at his nape, tickling slightly, but not enough to make her stop. "You won't freak out if I tell you something personal, will you?"

"Don't think so."

She waggled her hand. "You've noticed that I don't let myself get close to others. I haven't had anyone I could truly call a friend since college. Just my college roommate. Turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I told her things in confidence, and she told others."

Not knowing what to say that wouldn't get him slapped or make him sound like an ass, Cameron didn't comment. Hill obviously had more on her mind.

"I've always had trust issues. Fury and Steve are the only two people I trust completely, and still I hold back. Probably why no one noticed I'd been replaced. Sad, isn't it?"

In all the time they'd known each other, Cameron had gotten the sense that Hill was lonely, and here she was confirming it. Hugging her close, he whispered, "You can trust me, Maria. You've always been able to trust me. I won't let you down."

He felt her smile against his neck. She pushed out of his arms, keeping hold of his hand until the last moment. Cameron thought she was headed into the bathroom. He was surprised when she picked up the sax, and held it out. "Play something."

Taking a few moments to get settled, he chose a song, and played just for her. Hill sat on the foot of the bed with her knees crossed, the top foot moving to the beat of _Baby You've Got What It Takes_.

He also noticed that she was wearing one of his t-shirts, and nothing else. And it made him smile inside.

 **Volgograd Airport**

Sitting in the corner of the departure lounge away from the other passengers, Natasha took out her phone, and called Friday. "I have another favor to ask."

" _Speak, and it shall be done, Agent Romanoff._ "

She bit her lip, thinking. Did she really want to do this, to know if Wanda and Pietro where her children, or not know her son and daughter had died during the Avengers' fight with Ultron? Yes. And if it turned out that they were dead, Bucky still deserved to know of their existence. "Strictly confidential. You'll be comparing my DNA and that of Bucky Barnes to…" Natasha paused for a moment, "… to Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. And remember, not a word to _anyone_."

" _Run the tests. Tell no one. Got it. I'll get back to you ASAP_."

"Send the results to my phone, Friday. My flight's taking off in a few minutes." Natasha closed the phone without waiting for a reply from the AI. She got up, and went to the windows. What would Bucky say when he found out? She would have to wait until he came out of cryo, and though he deserved to be the first to know, could she really keep this sort of thing from her friends, people who had risked their lives for hers, and vice-versa? For the first time since she could remember, Natasha didn't have clear answers to her questions.

 **TBC**

 _Baby (You've Got What It Takes)_ is a 1960 song written by Clyde Otis, Murray Stein and Brook Benton. It was originally recorded as a duet by Dinah Washington and Brook Benton.


	24. Mommy Dearest

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Mommy Dearest**

 **Wakanda**

 **The Residential Wing**

Scott rolled onto his back, the twinge in his ribs bringing him awake. Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as last night. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and stretched, which alleviated some of the stiffness.

A sound like a kitten snuggling with Momma came from his left, and the bed shifted slightly. A quick glance confirmed that it was _not_ a kitten, but an adult human female. His brain's morning restart reminded him that Wanda had come to his room just before he went to sleep. Something about a bad dream.

Dread trickled down his spine, and pooled in his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he peeked under the covers, and found he was fully dressed. Relieved that he and Wanda hadn't gotten up to any funny business, Scott eased both feet over the side, and stood. Making as little noise as possible, he gathered clean clothes, and went into the bathroom to change. When he came out, Wanda was still asleep on her side facing the wall, close to the far edge of the bed.

Carrying his shoes, he went out into the hall to put them on as he went to the lifts, hopping on one foot, and then the other, just waiting for an arrow in the ass. Relieved when it didn't happen, he took the lift down to the first floor where he got out, and made his way to the dining room. Coffee, eggs, those fat sausages, and toast would hit the spot just right.

 **The Dining Room**

Scott had just sat down when he saw Wanda at the entrance.

She spotted him immediately. After getting food, she joined him at the table. "You didn't wake me."

One shoulder went up and down. "You looked so peaceful, I just let you sleep."

There must've been something in his tone, because she stared at him without blinking for a full seven seconds. "It wasn't a line, you know."

"Line?"

She pushed the food around on her plate, and scooped up a forkful. "I went late to the cryo lab to see if I could contact Bucky again. This time, I experienced the events leading up to his fall from the train as if it were me. In bed, every time I closed my eyes, I felt the ice and snow stinging my face, and the terror he must have experienced when he knew he would die." She reached for a packet of sweetener, poured it into her tea, her hand shook so badly, the spoon clinked against the sides.

Scott took the spoon, stirred the tea, and handed her the cup. "If it scares you so much that you have nightmares, you should stop."

"This time, I couldn't find him. I stumbled upon the memory on my own. I think, if he were there, it wouldn't be so bad." Wanda inhaled the fragrant steam, and took a sip of the tea.

"Misery shared is misery halved." Her smile made Scott think that everything, even the fact that they couldn't go home, would be okay. "As long as you're not hurt by it, then by all means, continue."

The cup was returned to the table, and that same hand, warm from the tea, grasped his fingers. "Thank you for letting me stay with you."

"Any time." And Scott meant it. Having her in his bed, waking up to a cozy, domestic scene, it felt so right. It wasn't just about sex. He missed having someone there, another person to provide a human presence, a connection. Wanda had this worldliness aura about her, yet still retained the innocence of youth, in spite of all that had happened in her short life.

The weird thing about their relationship was that she reminded him of Cassie, in a way. She found joy in simple things, like fountains, koi ponds, walking in the market, and the sun on her face, and was always willing to try something new. "I have an idea. Let's take a couple of hours away from this place." The look on her face said she was intrigued, but her sense of duty wanted to decline his offer. "Barnes will still be here when you get back. You need to take your mind off the darker aspects for a while."

Like the sun coming out, her smiled brightened. "What did you have in mind, _miláčku_?"

"You'll see. I had our fruit vendor friend hook us up. His name is Faraji, by the way."

"How were the two of you able to communicate? You don't speak Wakandan."

He chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of coffee. "I've been learning the language. Not good at it yet, but I was able to get my point across. We're expected around eleven. That good for you?"

"Of course. How should I dress?"

Greatly overplaying a leer, Scott said, "Any of those short skirts will do fine."

Wanda laughed, and slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

 **The Residential Wing**

The room didn't have any windows, and Hill didn't care. She liked it dark, at least for now. Only the small light on the far side of the bed was on, leaving most of the room in shadow. What little light there was fell on the bed allowing her to watch Cameron sleeping. He was on his stomach, the pillow bunched up under his chest, and the covers up to the middle of his back so his tattoo could be seen.

 _Vita non est vivere sed valere_. There is more to life than just being alive.

His dark curly hair provided a contrast to the white of the pillowcase. She'd been sitting here just watching him sleep for almost an hour. Enjoying his chest expand and contract in a steady rhythm, the sleep of one who was either exhausted, or had a clear conscious. Instinct told her it was the latter, while the woman in her smirked, and emphatically stated that it was the former.

The position, with his back exposed, indicated complete trust in the people and his surroundings. Hill wished she could be like that. But the lack of affection and soft words from her father had left her the kind of person who could disappear, and no one would miss them for _two years_. By being with Cameron, she'd already begun the process of changing.

Cameron groaned as he rolled onto his side. His hand patted the bed, and she realized that, even in sleep, he wanted her near. Hill joined him on the bed, letting him know she was there. He wrapped a hand around the side of her waist, and pulled her to his chest, burrowing through her hair into the place where her neck and shoulder met, and letting out a sigh of contentment.

Lying on her back, Hill snuggled into his warmth. Not once in her life had she ever shared a bed with anyone, male or female, and though she thought sleep would be elusive, she was out like aa light within minutes.

 **Malakal Airport**

 **Malakal, South Sudan**

The car Natasha hired was ready and waiting the moment she stepped out of the terminal. At this time, there were no official flights into or out of Wakanda without the permission of the King, or one of ministers or advisors. Natasha didn't want to bother T'Challa just so she wouldn't have to be inconvenienced.

Once in the back of the limousine, she took out her phone and reread, for the twentieth time, the information that Friday sent. Holding the phone in her hand, she stared out the window, barely noticing the scenery.

The phone vibrated to let her know she had another message from Friday. "Yes?"

" _Sorry to bother you, Agent Romanoff. I just wanted to let you know that a reliable source has informed me that you're about to receive a package here at the compound. What should I do with it?_ "

"Who is it from?"

" _There's no return address, but the postmark shows_ _Kostanay, Kazakhstan._ "

Though it was unlikely that Madame would be sending her a package, Natasha was intrigued. "I assume you've scanned for the usual items."

" _Of course. Whoever sent it knew what they were doing. The packing material hinders my scans. I can't tell you what it is, just what it isn't._ "

The AI's insulted tone made Natasha smile for the first time in days. "Forward it to me in Wakanda. And remember…"

" _Mum's the word, Ms. Romanoff. I'll take it to my grave_."

 **Wakanda**

 **The Park**

"How you doing back there?" Scott tossed the question over his shoulder so he wouldn't have to take his eyes off the path in front of him.

"Great! This is _so_ much fun!"

The tandem bike Scott and Wanda were riding hit a bump, making her shriek in pretend fear. He grinned to himself as he negotiated a curve in the path. "Let me know if you need a rest."

"Don't stop! I haven't ridden a bike since before my parents died."

"So good memories then."

The bike wobbled telling Scott that Wanda had taken her feet off the pedals and swung her legs. "Yes. Good memories. Pietro and I once rode to Vienna without our parents' knowledge. We sweet talked the border patrol into letting us through without a passport."

He laughed out loud. "I bet that didn't go over well."

"It did not. We were…"

"Grounded?"

The pedaling got easier when she started helping again. Good thing, because they were coming to a hill. "Much more than that. Mother and Father sold our bikes to the man who ran the butcher shop to give to his grandchildren for Christmas."

"Sorry."

"It was no more than we deserved. After the enhancements, we didn't need them." They rode quietly for a few minutes. "Scott?"

"Yeah?" She seemed reticent, and he rushed to assure her. "You can ask me anything, Wanda." When she still didn't continue, Scott put on the brakes, and climbed off. He waited for her to join him, and together they leaned it against a tree. Taking her hand, he led her over to a large rock to have a seat. "What is it?"

Whatever it was embarrassed Wanda, and Scott gave her hand a quick squeeze, which she returned. "I'm over twenty-one, and considered to be of legal age in most countries."

"And?" he prompted, not sure what she was getting at, and hoping it wasn't what he was thinking.

"I haven't…" Scott tilted her face up with a finger under her chin, giving her a questioning glance. "I've never learned to drive. Would you teach me?"

Relieved, he laughed and held her close. "I thought… Uh, never mind."

Startled, Wanda leaned back to look into his face. "You thought I was going to say I've never been intimate with a man."

He didn't want to tell the truth, but with her, he had to because she'd know. "Yeah."

Taking her hands from his, she leaned in to whisper, "I'm _not_ a virgin, Scott."

He thought their kiss would be brief, just a sweet, soft brush of her lips on his. That's how it started, but it didn't stay that way. They turned toward each other, her fingers delving into his hair as he devoured her mouth, and found her just as hungry for him as he was for her. Scott felt Wanda's barely controlled passion burst against his tongue, until the snap of a twig drove them apart.

Scott adjusted his clothing while she did the same just as a pair of joggers ran past. Smoothing his hair back into place, Scott stood, and Wanda glanced up at him with mild embarrassment as she buttoned the front of her top.

"We should get back to our ride." Scott got on, and waited for Wanda to do the same to begin pedaling again. "Still want to go swimming? We won't be alone."

Wanda muttered under her breath, "Too bad."

Scott's head snapped around, and she flashed him wicked grin.

 **The Cryo Lab**

 **That Afternoon  
**

The trio walked through the halls of the compound as if they owned the place, and in a way, one of them did. However, it was in that illusory way that all monarchs "owned" their kingdoms. Another strange phenomenon about them was more than evident as some staff gave them a cursory glance, and went on with their business, while others gave them a wide berth.

Of the three, only Kaya was human. The remaining two were a domesticated pair of panthers, and they were on their way to visit a "friend" in the hospital. She led them through the ward and into the cryo lab. When Akwete and Doto saw Bucky, they rushed forward, sniffing the tube, and hissing at the smell. They looked at Kaya imploringly, and she brushed a hand down their heads. "I'm sorry, my loves. Your friend isn't well. He must stay in there until it's safe for him to come out again." She crouched between them. "If I leave you here, do you promise to behave?"

The panthers head-booped her, and lay down on either side of the tube, obviously there for the duration. Shaking her head, Kaya went to her office to update files on her patients. Sometime later, she looked up at the knock on her door, and smiled. "Steven. Please come in."

He gave her a kiss, and took a seat. "What's going on in the lab?"

"Akwete and Doto have bonded with your friend. I went to the grotto where Bucky slept that night, and they were snuggled on the pile of clothes he left behind. It was obvious that they'd been sleeping there waiting for him to return."

Steve showed her a half-grin. "Animals have always liked him. Me, on the other hand… not so much."

Kaya took hold of his hand, tugging him toward her. "Maybe you haven't found the right animal then, because I find you exceptionally charming."

"You're hardly objective." Their lips met in a sweet and satisfying kiss.

 **Moscow, Russia**

The expensive leather office chair creaked under the bulk of Dr. Pavel Ozerov. His square-framed glasses perched on the end of his nose as he read the weekly reports from the heads of the departments he oversaw in his official capacity as Minister of Science.

The front doorbell rang, annoying him more than usual. His housekeeper rushed to answer it. He heard voices in the entry hall, and a moment later, a light knock on the door. " _Da?_ "

Josefina stuck her head in. "You have a guest, Minister."

Pavel winced involuntarily. "Tell them I do not wish to be disturbed."

"I did, sir, but she insisted…"

Josephina was pushed out of the way, and in walked an elegantly dressed woman with a stern expression, and piercing eyes. She was carrying a long narrow package, and a purse. "I told you he would see me. I'm not in the habit of waiting."

She crossed to the sofa in front of the cold fireplace, insinuated herself in the exact center, and made a great show of taking off her jacket, hat, and gloves.

To Josefina, Pavel said, "Please bring my guest a cup of black tea. One spoonful of honey with lemon. Use the good china."

He walked over to the sofa, and leaned down to give the woman a kiss, annoyed when she turned her head at the last second. "Is something wrong, _moya lyubov_?"

The cold stare made him shiver involuntarily. Always had. The housekeeper brought the tea on a silver tray, set it on the low table, and just as quickly left.

Once the door was shut, Olga flung a caustic glance at him. "Your words of love ring false, Pavel, just as they always have. Not once did you acknowledge our relationship or our child while she was growing up."

"You _know_ why. I was married, and without her father's support, I wouldn't have gotten where I am today." He sat beside her, reaching out to take her hand. "And with your help, the authorities believe that my wife and her father we killed in an accident, leaving me as the sole heir to their fortune."

~~O~~

Again, Ellie pulled free, stood, and walked to the window that looked out over an expansive yard. "I'm not who you think I am, Dr. Ozerov." She touched her temple as she turned. Her face seemed to melt, and reform as another. One she knew he'd never seen before. "I thought it was time we met. I'm Olga Belova's daughter. Nice to finally meet you… Father."

Stunned, Pavel gaped at Ellie as she removed the brown wig, and the elegant suit. Underneath, she wore casual clothing. She tossed the suit on the sofa and picked up the package, tearing the paper open to show that it contained the executioner's sword. "A real father would've been there for his child, protecting her from the demons in human form, like my mother, instead of encouraging her activities."

She walked around the room, her eyes taking in the overly expensive décor, so like her mother's, it was uncanny. First edition books, a duplicate of the antique porcelain statue that had been in her mother's home. The price of clock on the mantel could feed and house a family of four for at least a year.

"Why have you come here, child?"

"I'm _not_ your child. You're just the man who donated the sperm that created me. And don't bother to deny it. I've taken the precaution of having a DNA test done. Did you know your DNA profile is online, _if_ you know where to look?" As she came around in front of Pavel, Ellie saw fear in his eyes as she brought the tip of the sword up to hover barely an inch in front of his nose. "All my life, I thought I'd done something terrible to make my father leave Mother and me. You just didn't want to acknowledge me as your daughter. Pity you and your wife never had children of your own.

"You know, I read all about you, Father. Your humble beginnings that were a lie. Your political and scientific ambitions. How your opponents for office would suddenly drop out of the race when it appeared that you would lose. And let's not forget the one who was killed in a car accident the day before the election. Convenient, _and_ shameful, really. Not to mention sloppy. I was only thirteen at the time, but I'd have done a better job of it than those you sent, and no one would ever have suspected a young girl was an accomplished assassin, in spite of Mother's assertions otherwise.

"At least someone had some use for me. After the botched sanctioning when I was fifteen, I didn't know who the hell I was, so I was whoever the KGB wanted me to be."

In an attempt to appear unmoved by her words and actions, Pavel sat back, resting an elbow on the back of the sofa. "None of this tells me why you are here, Yelena."

"To remind you of something you've seem to have forgotten along the way, Father."

"And what would that be, child?"

"That those who live by the sword…" Ellie swung the metal forged more than four centuries ago, and as with her mother, severed Pavel's head from his body. The head rolled across the floor, and lay there staring up at the ceiling. She picked it up. "… _die_ by the sword."

Ellie placed the head in Pavel's lap, and patted his cheek. "When you get to hell, Father, tell Mommy Dearest I said hello."

She threw the sword on the sofa next to him, and peeled the ultrathin covering from her hands. If anything of the room remained when she was done, it would lead back to her mother, and the police would be left with the mystery of how a dead woman could have killed their precious minister.

The gloves, mask, clothes, and wig were placed on the sofa as well, and moments later, she stepped out onto the patio. Patting her pockets, she found two of the round grenades. The only other person in the home had been the housekeeper, and Ellie heard her leave just a few minutes ago.

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here. _The Tempest_ : Act 1, Scene 2." The grenades were tossed inside, and the door pulled shut. Ellie took off at a jog, and when she reached the car, she stood there watching the flames engulf the old building.

 **Wakanda**

 **The Clinic**

Once again, Clint slipped into an empty office to use the computer. He sent another coded message telling Laura where and when to meet him. The email included code phrases, and under what circumstances each would be used. A response was received within five minutes indicating agreement.

He reached out to another contact, and gave him instructions. His response also came back within moments. Laura, Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel wouldn't be the only ones at this clandestine meeting.

While removing all evidence he'd been there, Sam joined him. "What's up, Wilson?"

"Bored. Saw you headed this way when you're usually in the gym, Clint, and got curious." He dropped into the second chair. "Checking in with the family?"

Though Sam hadn't met Laura and the kids, Clint had let him in on the secret after Stark's visit to the Raft. No point in trying to hide their existence from his fellow fugitives. "Yeah. They're with a contact, and I've arranged a meet."

"I know you miss them. How you getting there?"

"Quinjet." Clint shut down the computer, and stared at his reflection in the darkened monitor. "I could use some back-up. Another set of eyes. You up for another adventure, Falcon?"

Sam sat forward in his seat. "Depends. Will people be shooting at us?"

Clint shrugged. "Possible. We _are_ on every conceivable watch list."

"You got a plan for getting to and from the rendezvous point? One that doesn't include us dying?"

"Got a plan. But like most plans, it relies on others to do their job, or it falls apart."

They heard voices outside, and got to their feet. Clint opened the door a crack, and shut it again, putting a finger to his lips for silence. Footsteps passed, and were gone before they relaxed again. They slipped out, and ducked into the nearest stairwell.

"As long as we have a plan B in the works, and an exfiltration strategy, I'm in."

"Then pack a bag, Wilson." The archer slapped him on the shoulder. "Wheels up at 0900."

 **TBC**

Hell is empty and all the devils are here. ~ William Shakespeare, _The Tempest_ : Act 1, Scene 2.

 _Miláčku_ = Honey, sweetheart (Term of endearment)


	25. Que Sera, Sera

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 _ **Que Sera, Sera**_

The driver set Natasha's bag on the sidewalk, accepted a tip, got behind the wheel, and drove off. She was so exhausted, if she fell down, she'd likely fall asleep where she lay. With bag in hand, she went inside the compound, and took a lift to the residential wing.

Inside her room, she set the bag in a corner while she took off her jewelry, and placed it in the top drawer of the dresser. While getting out something to sleep in, she heard voices in the hall. She cracked the door, and saw Hill come out of Cameron's room, cross the hall, and go into her own.

Shaking her head, Natasha stripped out of her clothes, too tired to wonder what was going on between Cameron and Hill, if anything. She was also too tired to take a shower, and then put on her pajamas, but she did.

As she ran a brush through her wet hair, she heard music. It seemed to be coming from Cameron's room. She opened the door to satisfy her curiosity. Yes, it was Cameron playing the saxophone. Though she hadn't known he played, it wasn't really a surprise. She knew he was an intelligent and creative person from the way his eyes took in everything that went on around him, even when he seemed to be disinterested.

Natasha looked to her right when Hill's door opened. The former SHIELD commander leaned in the doorway, also listening to the music. An almost dreamy smile turned up her lips, and Natasha wondered what it meant.

When the music stopped, Hill went back into her room, and closed the door. Natasha did the same, crawling into the bed she used to share with Bucky. One hand patted the other side of the bed, wanting and needing him so badly right now that her entire body ached with the force of it. There was so much she had to tell him and couldn't. Not until he came out of cryo. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long, because if she didn't share what she knew with someone soon, she would explode.

Clint was her best friend, and under normal circumstances, he would be the first person she'd go to. But as Bucky was one of the major players in this little play called life, he deserved to know before anyone else.

~~O~~

Hill dressed, and left Cameron's room while he was still asleep. After the night, and morning they'd spent together, he had to be exhausted, because _she_ was.

From the beginning, she'd felt an attraction for Cameron, but had never followed up on it. Because of those trust issues she told him about, she'd given the feeling no credence. Still, it was there every time they worked side by side, sat next to each other in a meeting, or when they were alone in her office, going over reports. SHIELD didn't have a no-fraternization rule, and as long as both parties were consenting and discrete, especially while on the job, Fury didn't make an issue of it.

From his first day at SHIELD, Hill had thought of Cameron as highly intelligent, if a little nervous in tense situations. An opinion that she'd discarded after hearing Steve's story, told to him by Agent 13, of how Cameron had stood up to Rumlow when told to override Insight's launch timetable.

Cameron's tendency to get flustered under close scrutiny also led her to believe that he'd be a boring lover, wanting the woman to tell him what she liked, instead of discovering it for himself.

Was _she_ ever wrong!

Each time they made love, he saw to it that she was thoroughly and completely satisfied before asking anything for himself. Their first time together had been so intense, and so explosive, that afterward, Hill had said, "Oh, my _gawd_! _We_ are gonna do _that_ again!"

Cameron had chuckled, cuddled her close, and kissed her forehead. And went on to blow each and every ill-conceived notion she ever had about him right out of the water. Unlike most men, with him, making love wasn't a performance, the _quid_ , to get a _pro quo_ from her. Once, he tried to stop her from reciprocating. _Fat chance, pal_. Whatever he did for her, she gave back in equal measure, until they were both too tired to go on.

After they'd showered together, Cameron had her sit in the chair while he combed her hair until it was dry. He then helped her dress in one of his t-shirts, put her into the bed, got in, and cuddled her until they both went to sleep.

Now, alone in her room, Hill wasn't sure what to do. At no time in her life had she ever given in to an attraction for a man. Not once. And it hadn't been an issue until they were stuck in Wakanda, unable to go home or they'd end up back in the Raft, provided Ross figured out how to get it back in the water. If not there, then another federal prison where they'd stay until the rest of the world forgot they'd ever existed.

However, that wasn't why Hill had offered herself to Cameron, to keep from feeling lonely. There was way more to this than the physical aspect of their relationship. They respected each other as colleagues, and as individuals.

Since Cameron's first day on the job, he was one of the few people on the planet that could make her laugh out loud. Like when he made a comment about Loki while watching Natasha interrogate the demi-god.

 _I think he just needs to get laid_.

Then there was the song they sang together in the car. She hummed the chorus, and at first Hill thought the music was inside her head. Then she realized it wasn't. She followed the sounds out to the hall, leaning in the doorway of her room while Cameron played the saxophone again. The song ended; she went back into her room, and closed the door, thinking _, That's gonna be_ _our_ _song_.

It was apt, considering that Cameron had a heart of gold. He'd given up a career with Homeland Security, his apartment, pets, if he had them, his car, and his family, all to help rescue his friends from an unjust incarceration. Then there was the fact of his relationship with Jane, as they called the imposter. Busting her virtually ensured that they wouldn't be able to be together, meaning he pretty much traded his girlfriend for Barton, Wilson, Lang, Maximoff, and her.

At one point during the night, Hill asked who at SHIELD had known about him and Jane. She actually felt sorry for him after his cheerless whisper. "She didn't want anyone to know."

From his tone, Cameron felt as though Jane were ashamed of their relationship. Hill wanted him to know that she would never feel that way toward him or their time together. If they were still working for SHIELD, discretion would be the operative word when on the job. Not so here in Wakanda. Her mind made up about what to do, Hill changed clothes, and went to the gym.

 **Wakanda**

 **The Park**

After their swim, Wanda and Scott walked while he pushed the tandem, talking, and enjoying nature. The path ahead forked, and they kept to the left. After a while, they got on the bike, and road until they came to a picnic area that looked like no one had used it in years.

"The weather's nice," Scott commented, squinting into the sun. "I wonder where everyone is."

"Perhaps we're in what is called a tourist ambush?"

Wanda shook her head at Scott's chuckle. "Trap, though they sometimes _feel_ like an ambush. And we're the first tourists to visit this part of Wakanda."

She climbed off the bike, and helped him set it against a tree. He untied the bag from the basket, and carried it to the open area near a group of brightly colored flowers. They spread the blanket, set the bag to one side, and sat across from each other.

While Scott fixed their plates, Wanda took in the beauty of their surroundings. Sokovia had nothing comparable to the tropical flora. The flowers in her homeland were beautiful, but not as vibrant, bursting with life, almost electrifying. Reds, yellows, greens, and blues that made her feel like she might have found the biblical Eden, all the colors vying for her attention. She felt a poke on her leg, and adjusted the position of her feet. The poke happened again, harder. "Ow!"

"What's wrong?"

She brought her knee up, turning her leg so she could see the ankle. "Something bit me. Look."

Scott took hold of her foot, turning it to examine the red spots. "Ant bites." He looked around, and his eyes widened. "Oh, God. We have to _go_."

She took Scott's hands, and he pulled her up in front of him. "Go? Just for a few ants?"

"They're not just _any_ ants, Wanda. They're army ants."

"And that's not good?"

Taking her hand, he turned toward the bike leaning against the tree a few feet away. "Their queen is considered the largest ant in the world. Army ants will eat _anything_ that crosses their path, without exception, including people. And once they get ahold of you, it's next to impossible to get away."

They skidded to a stop before reaching the bike. It was covered by an undulating mass of reddish brown.

Wanda sensed that Scott was more than a little nervous as he searched for a way out before they were taken down by the disgusting creatures now blocking them from getting to the bike, and the path back to the entrance of the park. She raised her hands, a ball of red mist forming in the air. Making a pushing motion, she used her psionics to scatter the ants in all directions, but they didn't stay away. In fact, she seemed to have angered them.

~~O~~

Scott pushed her behind him. "Stay absolutely still, Wanda. And whatever you do, _don't_ use your powers on them again."

Her hands gripped his shoulders as she pressed against his back. "I could fly us out."

"You saw what happened. They don't like your, uh…"

"Psionics."

The ants came closer, and Scott turned to keep himself between Wanda and them while looking for a way out. " _Can_ you take both of us?"

"Not sure. I could try."

He shook his head. "That could get us both killed. We're dead either way, if we don't get out of here. But I do have an idea."

Taking a deep breath, Scott concentrated on the insects. Hopefully, his ability to control the behavior of ants would work on this species as well as the others. The mass of insects stopped less than two feet away, their antenna waving in the air as if sensing something only they could hear. As one, they turned and marched back into the jungle.

Scott continued to concentrate as he took Wanda's hand, and together they slowly made their way to the path. Soon, they came to the place where the paths diverged. Wanda tapped him on the shoulder, and pointed at the ground. Buried in the long grass was a sign warning people not to venture into the area they'd just left.

The couple broke into a run, and didn't stop until they were in the heart of the city. Breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief, they held onto each other.

"Oh, my God, Scott. You were _amazing_!"

He grinned smugly. "I was, wasn't I?"

Wanda leaned back, her clear green eyes taking in his features. Rising up on her toes, she tilted her head to the side, and kissed him. He kissed her back, telling her without words that he wanted her. Again, her tongue brushed over his lips, and this time, he accepted the offer, while her hands delved into his hair.

~~O~~

Walking hand in hand, Scott and Wanda entered the compound, and rode up to the residential floor. At her door, she faced him. "I need to shower, change, and go to the lab."

"Why don't you take the night off, and get some rest?"

"If it were you in that tube, wouldn't you want to be cured as quickly as possible?" Wanda had a point, and he knew it. "You can come with me."

"Might just do that."

They kissed again then Wanda went into her room and shut the door, leaning against it for a few moments, thinking about what she'd overheard while she and Scott were kissing in town.

 _I want you, Wanda_.

She hadn't meant to listen in on his thoughts, but her defenses had been low, and he was thinking so loudly, she couldn't help it.

After her shower, Wanda combed the tangles from her hair, and put it into a braid so it wouldn't get in the way. She pulled on pants, a t-shirt, socks, and sneakers. Annoyed that the ant bites on her ankle still itched, and had swelled, the clinic would be her first stop.

Standing in her doorway, she thought about knocking on Scott's door, and decided against it. If he wanted to join her, he knew where she would be.

 **Kaya's Office**

Kaya looked up at the knock on her door. Instead of Steve, Natasha was there. Her manner, and expression said more than anything. "Come in, Natasha. Sit down."

"Could we talk? Patient to doctor."

With those three words, Natasha officially place anything they discussed under the heading of doctor/patient confidentiality. She wouldn't even be able to tell Steve. "What's troubling you?"

"Bucky, and how he'll react to distressing news when he comes out of cryo."

Clasping her hands together on the desk, Kaya gathered her thoughts. "His mind is strong. Wanda is working to remove the programming instilled in him by the doctors at HYDRA. With that gone, the blocked memories should be available to him. And when they are, he will need someone equally strong to lean on until he's come to terms with it all."

Natasha tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair. "And I'll be there for him. But there's something else that had been a closely guarded secret, until recently."

With a sympathetic smile, Kaya held Natasha's hand. "Yes, I know. And I'm sorry for not telling you that we made this discovery."

Dropping her eyes to the floor, Natasha nodded. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"I wouldn't have known except that our lab recently got a new toy, and the department head wanted to try it out by running DNA comparisons to see how closely related Non-Wakandans are to our people. We should've asked first, but he's impetuous, and head-strong."

One side of Natasha's mouth turned up in an ironic yet affectionate smile. "I know the type." The smiled faded. "I haven't told anyone, not even my best friend."

"That's your decision, of course. But wouldn't you rather have the support of your friends than be alone, and in misery?"

"It's a long story why everything's so messed up." She shook her head. "Maybe you're right. I should confide in someone."

Getting to her feet, Natasha gave Kaya's hand a squeeze, and was gone.

 **Vancouver, British Columbia**

 **The Clancy Home**

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Taylor pulled on a pair of plastic gloves, and shook the bottle of brown liquid until it was thoroughly mixed. The directions on the package said to separate his hair into sections before applying the mixture, but that was too much trouble. Starting at the roots, he squirted some of the liquid into his hair, and used the other hand to coat all the strands.

Once his entire head was covered with dark brown gunk, he slipped a plastic cap on to keep it from getting all over, removed the towel from around his shoulders, and stepped into the hall, where he was confronted by the youngest Clancy, Quinn.

The girl had turned eight less than a month ago, stood just over four feet tall, with limpid brown eyes like one of those paintings of big-eyed children in the rain, a sweet smile-most of the time, and blonde hair. Or she would, if she had hair. Around the time Taylor came to live with them, Quinn had just finished her last round of chemotherapy for a rare form of cancer that manifests in children under the age of ten. The family had been in Romania for an experimental treatment that had a much higher rate of success. It had worked, and as of now, she was cancer free. Her hair was just starting to grow back, looking like blonde fuzz.

Quinn peered up at him, hands on her skinny hips, and a glare on her little girl face. "About time you came out, Tay. Whatcha doin' in there anyways?"

Taylor hooked an arm around Quinn's neck, and kissed her on the top of the head. "Replacing the carburetor in Father's car. Why are you in such a hurry?"

She pushed him away, and crossed her arms. "It's none o' your business why. I just haveta get in there."

Bowing at the waist, Taylor made an after you gesture. "Entrée, My Queen."

Quinn huffed, and glared as she went into the bathroom. Taylor grinned and pulled the door shut. As he turned away, he heard the lock click.

Getting him into Canada had been easier than Taylor had thought it would be. He now had documents that said he'd been adopted by the Adam and Julia Clancy when he was six years old. Where Adam had gotten them, Taylor didn't want know.

" _Ki-ids! Ryan! Quinn! Taylor! Come help with the groceries!_ " Julia's voice called from the foyer.

Taylor ran down to the first floor. "Quinn's in the bathroom, and Ryan's over at Billy's." He kissed Julia on the cheek. "I'll get the groceries while you put them away."

Julia, early forties, dark blonde with green eyes, topping out at five-six, smiled her appreciation. "You're the best, Tay." Raising her voice to be heard as she went into the kitchen, she added, "When you've washed that dye out of your hair, we need to talk."

With a smirk, he called out, " _Yes, Mother!_ " as he ran out the front door.

~~O~~

Julia set the bags on the counter, tossed her purse out of the way, and went into the downstairs bathroom. She came out a few minutes later, and found that Taylor had already brought in all the groceries, and put most of them away, only leaving out the personal items.

How could he have done it in the short time she was in the bathroom? Shaking her head, Julia loaded all the bathroom and other items into a reusable bag, and carried them upstairs. Taylor was sitting with his back to the wall next to the linen closet, and his eyes shut, drumming in the air as he listened to music only he could hear. Julia tapped his foot with hers. He opened his eyes, and stood. "You want to talk now?"

"It's not urgent. After you've rinsed your hair is good. My office?"

Taylor grabbed a towel from the closet. "I will be there." He knocked on the bathroom door. "Come out of there and give someone else a chance, _sestrenka_!"

" _I'm brushin' my teeth!_ "

Julia tapped Taylor on the shoulder. "Go use our shower. And don't make a mess."

He grinned at her, and was gone. Shaking her head at how fast he could move, Julia went back downstairs to her home office, and powered up the computer. She went to get a cold drink, and came back, scooting the chair close to the desk. Opening Taylor's file, she reread the results of his blood work again, puzzling over the conclusions drawn by the hospital's doctor.

Using alkaline phosphatase, ALP, a marker commonly used in clinical diagnostics as a biomarker due to its age-dependent nature, they determined that Taylor was born seventeen years ago last December, give or take a year. However, tests created by one of the world's top forensic anthropologists gave his age as closer to twenty-four. So which one was right? The lab couldn't tell her why the disparity. For certain Taylor wouldn't know.

Despite his amnesia, the boy was smart. He completed his chores faster than anyone she'd ever seen, and kept the house in tip top shape. Cuts and scrapes healed within a few days, even the deeper ones. And he was stronger than she would've thought for his size. Then there was his hair. He had to dye it once a month or it turned an interesting shade of silver/grey. In the last couple of weeks, he'd grown a beard. Coupled with the curly brown hair that was nearly to his shoulders, his appearance drew less attention. Not so his accent. Another thing he was working to change. Julia just hoped he would be amenable to her next suggestion.

"I'm here." Taylor came through the open door, turned the straight backed chair around and straddled the seat, arms resting on the back. "What's up?"

"Taylor, you know we love you."

Two little lines appeared between his eyes indicating confusion. "Yes."

"Adam and I only want what's best for you. It's great that you do all the housework, watch Quinn when we're out late. But we think it's time you started making a life for yourself outside the family, and this house." Julia reached for his hand, and he met her halfway, holding on loosely. "You should have friends you spend time with. I want you to think about either going to college, or finding a job. Anything to get you living life again."

 **Wakanda**

The panthers looked up as Wanda approached Bucky's cryotube, giving her curious stares. When she got close, she went down on one knee, and extended her hand. Together, they came to sniff her fingers, pronouncing her acceptable by head-booping, and licking her ears, making her laugh. "You must be Akwete and Doto. I have heard much about both of you. It's good that you're here to protect Bucky. That's sort of what I'm doing too. I'm helping him get well so he can be with his friends."

Wanda moved between the panthers, and they turned to watch her sit in the chair. She reclined, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply several times before opening the port.

The moment their hands touched, Wanda felt a pulling sensation, and found herself inside Bucky's mind again. Unlike last time, he was there, staring into space. The doors were there as well, but instead of being lined up side by side, stretching off to the left and right, they were scattered through the white blankness. From the ones she could see, the color of the door appeared to match the primary emotion or emotions Bucky could have been feeling at that time.

She'd read somewhere that emotions were associated with color. The for the red and black door where his Winter Soldier memories were stored, red seemed to indicate excitement, energy, and intensity, while the black star meant authority, power, strength, and evil.

One careful step at a time, Wanda approached Bucky, her hand extended to touch him on the shoulder. He started, as if his mind had been elsewhere, and turned to face her, a smile coming to him. He blinked, as if he didn't know how he'd gotten here. It was the younger version of Bucky, short hair, and devil-may-care smile, dressed in chinos, a short sleeved blue and white striped button down shirt, and loafers. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and though she'd gotten the idea from stories Steve told that he had been a ladies' man, his eyes stayed on her face.

"Hey, you're back. Wanda, right?"

She returned his smile. "Yes. Are you ready to get started?"

He made an after you gesture, waited for her to pass, then came alongside. "What're we looking for?"

"Not sure. That's why we need to do this together. My ultimate goal is to remove the programming that triggers you as the Winter Soldier so you can live a normal life."

Bucky scoffed. "Doll, my life ain't been normal since day one." As they passed doors, he would glance at the notation, and smile. A few, he opened, stuck his head in, looked around, and closed the door again.

The next door he stopped in front of was the green color associated with the military, and the words United States Army, and Camp McCoy were stenciled across the top. "What's that?"

"Uh, looks like the year I was drafted. Spent basic at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin. Was posted to the States for the next couple of years. About the time I was promoted to Sergeant, my regiment, the 107th Infantry, was shipped off to England."

"Steve mentioned you shipping out, but didn't go into details." Wanda tried the door, and found it wasn't locked. "Let's have a look." She grabbed Bucky's hand, and pushed the door open. Light engulfed them, and suddenly they were standing in an alley watching a shorter, skinnier version of Steve being pummeled by a bully.

 **TBC**

 _Que Sera, Sera_ (Whatever Will Be, Will Be) is a popular song written by the Jay Livingston and Ray Evans songwriting team in 1956. It was first recorded by Doris Day.

 _Quid pro quo_ "something for something" or "this for that" in Latin, means an exchange of goods or services, where one transfer is contingent upon the other. English speakers often use the term to mean "a favor for a favor"; phrases with similar meaning include: "give and take", and "you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours".

Alkaline phosphatase, ALP, is a real thing used by forensic anthropologists. If I understood the article correctly, then the bit above about determining someone's age using this test is real. If my comprehension was off, then I made it all up, and it has no bearing on real life. You decide.


	26. Nature's Masterpiece

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

The family is one of nature's masterpieces.

~ George Santayana

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Nature's Masterpiece**

Aghast, Wanda started to go to his rescue, and was stopped by Bucky.

"Don't sweat it, doll. He's got it covered."

"But Steve will be hurt. We should stop him."

They backed up against the wall when a man in uniform swaggered down the alley, and sent the bully on his way with a kick in the backside without getting a hair out of place, making Wanda giggle.

One side of Bucky's mouth turned up in a grin. "Not the first time. Won't be the last." The grin dimmed. He looked down at his feet, sending a stone rolling over the bricks with a swing of his foot. "I just wonder who's gonna keep him outta trouble while I'm workin' for Uncle Sam."

Wanda took hold of his hand. "I do not think that will be a problem." She smiled. "After you're gone, Steve's life takes a rather dramatic turn."

"Yeah? Cool."

The Bucky in uniform, hooked an arm around Steve, and drew him out of the alley. He handed Steve a newspaper, and they disappeared into the dark at the entrance, as though the night had swallowed them up.

"That night, I got us a coupla dates. Connie and her friend Bonnie. Just like always, they barely spoke to Stevie. The girls were so excited to see the flying car demonstration. Then I turned around, and Steve was gone."

The scene around them changed, and they were standing outside the Army recruitment center. The friends hugged, and Bucky walked away with a girl on each arm while Skinny Steve turned around, and went into the center.

The Bucky with Wanda made to follow the other Bucky, and she stopped him, nodding at the door through which Steve had disappeared. "This way."

"Aw, come on, doll." He wiggled his eyebrows, and made a few dance steps. "Dontcha wanna cut a rug with yours truly?"

"Another time, maybe." Wanda stated emphatically. "This isn't the right memory. We should try another one." Boom! They were outside the room again. She looked around. "I need a way to get into the room that has your memories from after you'd been captured by…"

"…Schmidt." Bucky's voice had taken on a dangerous tone, and when she looked at him, he looked completely different. His eyes were still blue, but with the hard edge of pain, anger, fear, and distrust, though not for her.

Bucky's clothing was different too. An ugly green sweater, unbuttoned, dog tags dangling against his hairy chest, brown pants, and beat up boots had replaced the civilian clothes. A rifle hung over his right shoulder. His hair was dirty and unkempt, and he hadn't shaved or bathed in over a week. This close to him, she could smell stale sweat, and something else she didn't want to define. What could have frightened a man like him so badly that he lost control of his bodily functions, not once or twice, but repeatedly?

The doors spun, moving so fast that they blurred together, as if they were standing in the middle of a gigantic slot machine. They slowed down so that she could now see individual doors, and finally stopped. In front of them was another door, the date over a year after the previous one. But here, the colors wouldn't stabilize. Red, yellow, pink, grey and black swirled around each other, taking turns as the dominant emotion.

Wanda grasped the doorknob, but before she could open it, Bucky shook his head. "I-I don't want to go in there."

She held in a sigh, giving him a tender smile. "I'm trying to help you, Bucky. I wasn't able to open the door to your memories of being the Winter Soldier, and I understand that they're traumatic for you. But it's the only way I can help."

He opened and closed his mouth, uncertainty in his eyes. "So maybe if we spend some time here," he nodded at the door of many colors, "the other will unlock, and we can go in?"

"Yes. Perhaps. And this time, I will be with you." She held out her hand, and he took it, offering up a tentative smile. "Do not worry. I sense that there is a light at the end of the tunnel."

Bucky snorted. "As long as it's not another stinkin' train. Let's get on with it, doll."

Wanda touched the doorknob, and she and Bucky were instantly transported to a metal platform. Heat and smoke from the massive fire below made them cough. To their right stood Steve in his Captain America uniform, and Bucky, in the same clothes her companion wore. The platform shook with every explosion, threatening to collapse, killing them all.

 **Wakanda**

Clint stopped in front of Scott's door, pausing a moment before knocking. The door opened on Scott pulling a t-shirt down to his waist. He already had pants and sneakers on. "Yeah?"

"Wilson and I are taking a little trip. Thought you might want to ride shotgun." Though he tried to be discreet, Scott saw him trying to look over his shoulder into the room. Annoyed, Scott pushed the door all the way open, showing that the room was empty.

"She's not here. And pass. Don't want to end up back in prison, and we have plans after lunch, _if_ she feels up to it. At the moment, she's in the cryo lab with Barnes." He crossed his arms, and stood with his feet shoulder width. "Out of curiosity, where're you headed?"

To annoy him, Clint turned and walked away. "That's need-to-know, and if you're not coming, you don't need to know."

~~O~~

Sam peeked around the corner. "Coast is clear." He and Clint hustled down the hall, holding an unconscious Scott between them. "Did you _have_ to knock him out? This would be so much easier if he walked to the quinjet under his own power."

"Told you, he declined my offer, and naturally, I couldn't tell him why he had to come."

"Why not?"

They carried Scott up the ramp, sat him in one of the jump seats, and strapped him in. Clint patted him on the cheek, and went to the cockpit. "It's a surprise. That's if my message got through. If not, didn't want to get his hopes up." He aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "Buckle up. Take off in three minutes."

Sam chose a seat that allowed him to keep an eye on Scott, and see out the front window at the same time. "He's gonna be pissed. He'll think you did this to keep him away from Wanda."

"Now _why_ would I do that?"

"Huh! It's no secret that you don't like them spending time alone."

Clint concentrated on taking off, and Sam got the sense that he wasn't going to respond to his last comment. Whatever. He settled back to take a nap. "Wake me when we get there."

 **Several Hours Later**

 **Outside Vancouver, B.C.**

Sitting in the back seat, slumped down on his spine, arms crossed and the cap pulled low over his eyes, Scott brooded, only because he was too old to pout. They'd been driving for over an hour, and he had yet to speak to his companions or take any interest in their surroundings. Clint was the brains behind the plan to kidnap him from Wakanda, and Sam had helped. That put them both squarely at the bottom of his Christmas card list. If he had one. He hadn't sent cards in years. In prison, he got out of the habit.

The car slowed, turned into the parking lot of a deserted warehouse, and drove around to the back. Clint parked next to several other similar vehicles, and shut the engine down.

Scott still wanted nothing to do with whatever was going on. "You go. I'll wait here."

Sam came around the car, and opened the door. "We're _all_ going, Scott."

"Fine. But I'm not gonna enjoy it."

When Clint and Sam didn't respond with a witty comeback, Scott got suspicious. Still, he followed Clint to the door beside the loading dock. The archer knocked in a specific pattern, and the door was opened by a blonde in black pants, a tailored shirt, and a vest.

The blonde smiled. "Right on time gentlemen." She stood back for them to enter, and closed the door behind them, while Clint made introductions.

"Scott Lang, Sharon Carter. Carter, Lang."

Sharon shook his hand, and motioned for them to follow. "Sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, Mr. Lang."

Annoyed, Scott said, "Yeah, about that… Why _are_ we here?"

With a smile, Sharon opened another door that led to a room that had no place being in an abandoned warehouse in Vancouver, BC. It was furnished like a large single family home. New furniture, a full kitchen, living room and dining room. Doors led off into unknown areas, maybe rooms for the agents. There was a set of stairs that presumably led to bedrooms for the "guests".

But the best feature of the room had to be the little girl sitting next to her mother, and clutching an ugly stuffed rabbit. She saw him at the same time. Her eyes lit up and she called out, "Daddy!"

Scott stooped down, taking his daughter in his arms, and hugging her tight. "Cassie!" There were other shouts of joy around him, but Scott couldn't let go of his daughter to check it out. Over her shoulder, he saw his ex-wife with a single tear rolling down her cheek. She wiped it away, and sniffed as she came to join them. Holding Cassie with one arm, he gathered Maggie close. "How did you get here?"

Maggie shrugged. "I'm not even sure where _here_ is." She nodded at Sharon Carter. "The day before Agent Carter came to the house Jim and his partner were sent to retrieve a grand jury witness. Said the man won't fly, so they're driving back to San Francisco from Nashville, because he also won't get on a train or a bus. I'm beginning to think it was a set-up to get Jim out of the way so he wouldn't ask where we'd gone."

"I'm glad you're here, Maggie. I wanted a chance to explain…"

"You're here, Scott, and you're alive. That's all we care about."

~~O~~

Watching Scott and Clint with their families, Sam felt just a little left out. He had no one to miss him while he was gone. He went to the door, thinking to step outside to give his friends some privacy when he was brought up short by a familiar voice.

"Where the hell you goin', Wilson?"

Sam swung around, his mouth dropping open when he saw the closest thing he had to family: Riley's wife and daughter, Selena and MelissaJo. The Riley women were pulled into his embrace. Looking down at the top of Melly's head, Sam realized just how much she'd grown since he saw her last.

The girl tilted her head back so she could see him. "We missed you, Sam. When're you comin' home?"

Though she was almost twelve, he picked up MelissaJo, and followed Selena to the sofa away from the others. They sat down, and he tucked the girl against his side. "Probably not for a while, Melly. Sorry."

"Some people came to our house, said you did something _really_ bad. But _I_ didn't believe them. You're an Avenger, not a super-villain."

"The people who said I was bad make the laws, whether I agree with them or not."

Selena took his hand. "A few days ago, another guy came to the door, tried to tell us he was a friend. Said his name was Tony Stark." She jutted her chin out proudly. "We told him to get lost."

MelissaJo poked herself in the chest. " _He_ wasn't nice either. Tried to come in the house when we said no. So I kicked him."

"Good _girl_."

"Tony Stark?" the woman with Scott asked. "He came to see us too. Tried to charm his way in. Cassie got him in the shins."

Scott grinned, and held up his hand to the little girl on his lap, and she gave him a high-five. "Way to go, peanut!"

Cassie wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I didn't like him."

Sam chuckled at the picture in his head of Tony being beaten up by two little girls. "Not many people do, sweetheart." To Selena, he said, "You staying the night?"

"Sorry, Sam. Gotta work in the morning, and take Mrs. Engelmann to the doctor in the afternoon. Plus Melly's starting school in a couple of weeks. We have school supplies and clothes to buy." She lowered her voice. "From what that Carter woman said, this is a family thing. We appreciate you thinking of us that way."

"You two are the closest I've got." Sam sobered. "It's been a few years. Have you started dating yet?"

Selena grinned. "As a matter of fact, I have. His name's John, and we met at church. He just moved to the area."

"I'm happy for you." He pointed a finger at her. "If he doesn't treat you right, I'll send one of my superhero friends around to tell him a thing or two."

She looked down, and took a deep breath. "What they said you did…"

"It's a long story, Selena. Most of it's classified." He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "What I _can_ say is that we did what we thought was right and got put away for it."

"The people who questioned us after what happened in Germany came back a few weeks later. Said you broke out of prison, and wanted to know if we'd spoken to you."

MelissaJo giggled. "Mommy told them…" the girl leaned close to whisper in Sam's ear.

Sam laughed out loud, drawing curious glances from the others. He ignored everyone, and hugged both girls.

~~O~~

Clint made a beeline for his family, Cooper and Lila meeting him halfway, leaning down to hug them tight. "I've missed you guys so much."

"We missed you too, Dad," Cooper said into his ear. His oldest son had grown a couple of inches in the past few weeks, looking and sounding more like a young man than a boy.

Laura stood, and Clint went to her, taking her in his arms, and holding tight. He kissed her as if he'd never get another chance. A small hand tugged on his pants leg, and he looked down to see Nathaniel's angelic face smiling at him. The boy held up his arms, and Clint picked him up. "Hey, buddy. How you doin'?" 

"Daddy!" Nathaniel stated firmly, and with a grin that was a duplicate of Clint's, dimples and all.

"Yeah, baby. Daddy's here." He hugged the boy, breathing in his baby smell that he'd missed so much. "Did you miss me?"

Nathaniel stuck a finger in his mouth, and nodded. Laura drew Clint over to the sofa, and he sat beside her with the boy on his lap. Keeping her voice low, she whispered, "When you sent the message to get out of town, I was _so_ scared."

"But you did it. Just like we planned." He held her hand, rubbing a thumb over the knuckles. "Has it been too bad?"

"Not really. Your friends are nice. They treat us like family." She glanced around the room. Sharon was watching out the window, speaking softly. Per protocol, there were eyes on them at all times, human and electronic, though not in the bedrooms or bathrooms. "We brought enough clothes to stay a couple of days like Agent Carter said."

"Not sure how long I'll be here. If the people who put us in prison find out where we are, we'll have to cut and run. And if they get wind that you were here…" Clint didn't have to finish that thought.

Sharon caught his eye, and lifted her chin. Clint passed Nathaniel to his mother. "Be right back."

 **Wakanda**

 **The Cryo Lab**

The platform shook, and Wanda grabbed the handrail for support. Steve and the Bucky from the past were confronting the Red Skull, and another man, short, pudgy, with glasses. Schmidt was doing all the talking, but both Bucky's were staring at the other man with such fear, loathing, and revulsion that he could only be the scientist who experimented on him.

Schmidt and Zola made a hasty retreat, leaving Steve and Bucky to die. The catwalk had collapsed, and the only way to the exit was a metal beam that shifted each time there was another explosion. Bucky climbed over the rail, and slowly made his way to the other side.

Bucky, her companion on this odyssey, looked away. She took his hand, and he gripped it tight. A moment later, they were in the hallway again. They took several deep breaths to clear their lungs of the smoke and toxic fumes. Bucky's form blurred, and changed back to the one in civilian clothes. "Where to now, doll?"

"Will you _please_ stop calling me 'doll'? My name is Wanda."

He shrugged sheepishly, and without remorse. "Yeah, but I love the way that spot above your nose crinkles when I say it. Just like me." Hands went into his pockets as they started walking, silently reading the year and description on each door.

July 4th 1936

 _Christmas 1923_

 _Homecoming Game 1933_

 _September 1924_

Then they came to one that said _Mary Louise Sorrentino Summer 1934_ caused Bucky to smile fondly. He started to open the door, and changed his mind at the last second.

"Who's Mary Louise Sorrentino?" _Did he just blush?_

"Old girlfriend. Her grandmother lived on our floor, and she came to stay with her every year. We only went out a few months in the summer of '34, but she was my first serious crush." Intrigued, Wanda put her hand on the doorknob, looking over her shoulder when Bucky said, "I wouldn't go in there, if I were you."

"I want to see what your girlfriend looks like." Wanda went into the room, leaving the door open a crack, and was back out within seconds. She stood with her back to the door for a long moment while an involuntary shudder made its way down her spine. "Oh, my _God_. I will never be able to unsee that!"

Bucky shook his head, and smirked. "Told you not to go in there."

"You might have warned me."

"I _did_." He held his hand up in surrender. "But you didn't _listen_."

Wanda avoided his gaze, and took off. "Just drop it, and come on. We have to finish this."

 **Vancouver, B.C**

SHIELD Lloyd Wiley and Gabby Hamilton stepped up to the counter at the Pizza Shack, Gabby doing the talking. "We called in an order about two hours ago. Janet Smith."

The young man behind the counter smiled. "Yes, Ms. Smith. Your order will be ready in a few minutes."

While they waited, Lloyd drew Gabby's attention to nothing out the window. "We're being watched."

"I know. You'd think they never had anyone order ten pizzas, five containers of pasta, salad, breadsticks, drinks, and dessert before."

"Ms. Smith? It's ready. Looks like you're feeding an army."

Lloyd glared at the young man. "Corporate retreat."

The cashier rang up their purchase, and Abby handed him cash plus a generous tip. "Um, would you like help getting that to the car?"

For an answer, she handed him the keys to their vehicle, a grey minivan designed to blend into the scenery. The cashier took the keys, and went into the back. He came out within seconds followed by four other employees, all carrying the food. Abby and Lloyd watched them fill the van, close the doors, and run back inside. Lloyd got the keys back, and the partners left.

Once they were on the road again, Lloyd turned the radio down. "What do you think of the new director, Abs?"

She snorted. "Liked the last one better. This one's more of a politician than an agent. Glad-handin' all over the place, predatory smile like a shark, and always ready for a photo op, if SHIELD wasn't still underground. You?"

"Same. His handshake felt oily."

"Probably that crap he puts in his hair."

Lloyd looked skeptical. "If it _is_ his hair."

The partners had a laugh as they got on the 7, and headed for the safe house, which was actually in Burnaby, British Columbia, inside the Burnaby Mountain Conservation Area, close to Port Moody.

~~O~~

The building was quiet with everyone in their rooms. All but Sam who was too restless to sleep. He was outside, careful to stay mostly under the trees. He sat on a log, propped his elbows on his thighs, and rubbed his hands together. Through the leaves, he could see the stars. More than he'd seen since coming home from his last tour. In the desert, there were no city lights to fade out the stars. It made a man contemplate his place in the universe, and realize just how…

"Makes you feel insignificant, doesn't it?"

He looked around and up at Sharon as she came closer. "Just what I was thinking." She stopped next to him, and he scooted over so she could sit next to him. "We haven't had a chance to talk, Sharon, and it's not my place to tell you this…"

"Steve's in love with someone else. I could tell the last time we talked." She shoved her hands into the pockets of the puffy vest she wore against the chill. This time of year, the temperatures hovered about forty-three Fahrenheit, six Celsius. "Strangely enough, I'm okay with that, and wish him every happiness. And to tell you the truth, Sam, that kiss was a little weird."

Sam watched her from the corner of his eye, gauging if she was telling the truth or just trying to save face. Nope. Not lying.

"Why didn't he come with you?" Sam hesitated, and she rushed to assure him. "I know you're hiding out with Barnes, Romanoff, Lang, and Maximoff. And there's a rumor floating around that you had help from Hill and one of the senior techs that were on hand for Sokovia. What's his name?"

He shrugged. "Can't confirm or deny any of it."

Sharon waved a hand. "No, I understand. Wasn't really asking for details. Just sayin'." She shivered, and hugged herself.

After a moment's consideration, Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't red light me, okay?"

"No problem, Sam. And thanks. Always hated cold weather." She scooted closer, and leaned into him. "Before the CIA cut me loose, I tried to get your gear, but Ross has it locked up, with only himself permitted access."

He gave her a shake. "Thanks for trying." She let her head rest on his shoulder, and a few minutes later, he heard her sniff. "Something wrong?"

She pushed at him, and he loosened his hold so she could sit up. Tears glittered in the light of the moon, making her eyes sparkle. "I just miss Aunt Peggy so much, Sam. She was everything I've ever aspired to be, and here I am working for a disgraced spy organization, one she helped found, and aiding and abetting international fugitives."

Sam found a napkin in his pocket, and gave it to her. Then, he pulled her close again. "I didn't know Peggy Carter, but I think she would've been proud of the woman you've become, Sharon." He tilted her head up with a finger under her chin. "You've planted yourself like a tree, and said, 'No! _You_ move'."

She laughed, and something between them changed. Sam felt it, and from the look on her face, Sharon did too. And though it felt all kinds of weird, he slowly lowered his head, and kissed her. But the most surprising thing about it was she kissed him back.

 **TBC**


	27. My Circus, My Monkeys

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **My Circus, My Monkeys**

 **Wakanda**

Wanda and Bucky traveled through a few memories that he wanted her to see. He seemed to pick and choose at random, making it difficult to put his life in context.

 _Bucky teaching Steve to swim, and ride a bike._

 _Making a winning touchdown his junior year of high school._

 _Sitting with Steve at the prom while their dates were in the bathroom, and comforting Steve when his date left with the captain of the basketball team._

 _Convincing Steve to go on the Cyclone at Coney Island._

When they came to the one dated _September 1934, Senior Year_ , he groaned, and covered his eyes. She could see his features changing, getting younger. "Pick another one. Any one. What about the one where me and the football team pantsed the valedictorian right before his graduation speech?"

"You weren't prepared?"

"Um-m, not exactly."

She opened the door. "Come on. I want to see."

He didn't move. Wanda grabbed his hand, and pulled him in after her. When the door closed, they were standing in the back of a classroom filled with mostly eager young people. The girls listened raptly, while the boys slouched in their seats, either looking bored, or trying to look up the teacher's dress. All but Bucky. Sitting in the third seat, middle row, he was slouched, but didn't look bored at all.

At the front of the room stood an attractive woman, raven haired, with dark eyes, and long slender legs. When she walked, her hips shifted side to side, though Wanda got the sense that it was her natural stride. Her high heels clicked on the wooden floor as she walked between the rows expounding on the beauty of Shakespeare's prose.

She walked the periphery of the room, dragging her fingers over the backs of the seats, and returned to the front. She hoisted herself up to sit on the desk, crossed her knees, and lay the open textbook in her lap.

Wanda leaned close to whisper, "Who is she?"

He sighed dreamily. "Miss Agatha Greer, Literature. This is maybe a month after school started our senior year, her first year teaching high school. Those legs were every high school boy's fantasy. We often wondered if they went all the way up." He put a finger to his lips. "Listen."

 _I need a volunteer to read Romeo's part in this next scene, while I read Juliet's. Then we'll discuss the meaning afterward_. None of the boys raised their hands. Then, with a smirk, Bucky's hand slowly went up. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow went up, the only indication of surprise. _Mr. Barnes. Please stand_. Bucky got to his feet, and clasped his hands behind his back. " _Whenever you're ready_."

Deliberately, Bucky ambled to the front of the room, and took hold of Miss Greer's hand. She slid off the desk, and the two of them stood close together. _If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss_.

Miss Greer looked away, and back with a slight smile. _Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss._

 _Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?_

 _Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer_.

The high school Bucky turned their hands so that the palms were touching, and one side of his mouth turned up. _O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair_.

The teacher gazed into Bucky's eyes. _Saints do not move, though grant for prayers sake_.

 _Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged_.

He leaned close as Miss Greer said, _Then have my lips the sin that they have took_.

Bucky's expression changed to one of surprise, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. _Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again_.

With a coy smile, Miss Greer responded, _You kiss by the book_.

Glancing over at Bucky, Wanda found him looking both proud, and embarrassed, one hand covering his eyes, and peeking between the fingers. "Can we _go_ now?"

Taking pity on him, she held his hand, and in a flash, they were outside the room again. "Are you ashamed that you enjoyed _Romeo and Juliet_?"

"Not really. It's just that, well, all through high school everyone assumed that 'cause I was a jock, I was also a fat-head. That anytime I passed a test or turned in an assignment, I musta paid someone to do it for me."

Wanda let him see the sympathy in her eyes. "Then those people are…"

"All wet?"

"Yes. All wet, and undeserving of your time or consideration."

She pulled him along, and he finally stopped dragging his feet. "You know, you're alright for a dame, Wanda."

They smiled together. "And _you_ are…" she thought for a moment, "…the cat's meow?"

"You got it, _doll_." Bucky added a sly smile and a wink on the end. "Where to now?"

She released his hand, and hooked her arm around his. "Something a little closer to what we're looking for." Glancing over, Wanda saw Bucky's smile had turned into a frown.

As she watched, his form blurred, and when it stabilized, his appearance more closely resembled the photos of him as the Winter Soldier at the time he and Steve fought in Washington D.C. Black pants, black leather jacket that only covered his right arm, leaving the metal arm exposed. A red star appeared, flowing over his bicep like blood. His loafers turned into boots, dual holsters slapped against his thighs, his hair stretched and lengthened, and stubble darkened the lower half of his face. As if they were an afterthought, Bucky raised his hands to show that he now wore fingerless gloves. On the upside, he didn't have any weapons on him that she could see.

"Is this your way of telling me you're ready to try the red door again?"

Bucky took a long, deep breath, and let it out. "Yeah."

There was a pop, and Wanda found herself in the recliner no longer holding Bucky's hand. "Dammit!"

Kaya moved around in front of her, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry I had to end your session. You've been in a trance for nearly twelve hours. You need to eat something, drink fluids, water and electrolyte-enriched drinks. No alcohol. Get some exercise, and be sure to get plenty of sleep. Bucky will still be here in the morning." She helped Wanda stand, and held onto her through a dizzy spell. "You're dehydrated, and have low blood sugar."

When Wanda could stand on her own again, she thanked Kaya with a smile. As she turned around, Steve was standing there watching her with concern. He held out his hand, and she took it. "Come on. I'll buy you dinner."

"Were you here the whole time?"

He let them out of the clinic, and over to the lifts. "Most of it. I don't need much sleep."

"Wish I didn't. We were finally making progress. He was about to let me try once more to enter the memories of his time as the Winter Soldier."

"Kaya insisted. Your vital signs were all over the place. That's not how she put it, but I only understood 'low blood pressure', and 'possible delirium'."

~~O~~

Steve held Wanda's chair then took the one to her right. She added sweetener to her tea, stirred, and took a sip.

The cup clinked against the saucer when she replaced it. She cut a piece of dumpling, meat, vegetables, and sauce, and ate it. Her eyes lit up. "M-mm. It's Cesky Gulas. Where did they get the recipe?"

Shrugging one shoulder, Steve picked up his spoon. "Wish I could take credit, but it was Scott. Off the Internet, maybe."

She chewed and swallowed while pushing the food around with the spoon. "Where is he? I expected him to be there when I came out."

"He, Sam, and Clint took off on some mysterious errand." He held up a hand to stop her complaint before it got started. "I didn't know they were leaving until T'Challa sent a note asking me to join him for a workout tomorrow morning. They took one of the quinjets, and plan on returning in a couple of days."

"Where did they go?"

Steve shook his head. "No idea. According to T'Challa, they didn't stick to the flight plan they filed. Once they were near the edge of Wakandan airspace, they veered off course. If I had to guess, I'd say Clint arranged for their families to be brought to a safe house. He had to have help though. No way he could've done it alone."

"Who do you think helped him?"

"Someone he trusts, Fury, maybe."

Wanda agreed. "Clint does not trust many people. And most of those he does trust, he still holds back. Except for Laura."

Steve looked at her and back to his plate. "You've met her?"

"And the children. Pietro would have enjoyed showing off for them." Wanda seemed to be wavering over a decision. Then she looked him in the eye. "Clint and Laura have asked me to become part of their family. To make it legal. Not sure if they're speaking of adoption, or putting me in their will."

That made Steve laugh. He took a drink of coffee, and wiped his mouth. "With Barton, it could go either way. Because you're of legal age, my opinion tends toward the latter."

"As does mine." She took a sip of tea, and returned it to the saucer just as Natasha strode up to the table.

Wanda gave her a smile of greeting, which she returned with a half-hearted one of her own. "Would you like to join us for dinner Natasha? The chef made Cesky Gulas using African spices."

"Not right now, thank you." The look on her face was willful, determined, and just a little desperate. "I need to speak to Steve privately for a moment." To him, she said, "This won't take long."

Her eyes pleaded with him, and he didn't have the heart to say no. "Sure." Steve took another drink of tea, wiped his mouth, laid the napkin next to his plate, and stood. "Excuse me."

Natasha led Steve out into the hall, around the corner, up a few floors, down another hall, stopping in front of a supply closet. She expertly picked the lock, shoved him inside, and closed the door behind her.

With a start, Steve noticed that it was the same supply closet where he and Kaya were first intimate. He'd made only one half-hearted attempt to convince her to go to his room, but Kaya was so demanding he gave up without any real fight. And so, they took their relationship to the next level here, surrounded by medical supplies. To take his mind off the memory of seeing Kaya naked for the first time, Steve crossed his arms.

The closet wasn't that large, maybe big enough for five adults to stand in comfortably. Seven or eight, if they didn't mind being friendly. Yet somehow, Natasha found the room to pace. Three steps, turn. Three steps, turn. He let her work off some of the excess energy before stopping her. "Nat. What's wrong?"

"I went to Russia to find answers."

"And?"

"There were some rather startling revelations. Normally I would go to Clint, but he's not here. And if I don't tell someone…"

Steve relaxed his posture, and lightly gripped Natasha's upper arms when she looked like she would go back to pacing. "Relax, Nat. You have my word I won't tell a soul."

Bit by bit, her muscles lost most of their tension, and surprisingly, Natasha's expression seemed to fold in on itself, as if keeping up a façade all this time had taken every ounce of will power she possessed. She put her arms around him, and he just held her until she was ready to talk.

Before long, she pushed out of his arms, and made some space between them. "While I there, I visited the graves of my parents. I pulled a few weeds, left some flowers, and said a prayer. But that wasn't the main reason for the trip."

Taking a deep breath, Natasha launched into a rapid-fire stream of Russian that seemed to have no end. At times, she seemed angry; other times, stunned. Steve tried to interrupt a couple of times, but it was impossible to stop a Russian, especially this one, in full on rant mode.

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

It was late, near midnight, and Clint was tired, but he didn't want to go to sleep, so he stayed awake talking to his wife, telling her everything that had happened since he left home, and how Steve had engineered their prison break. Nathaniel was in a crib next to the queen bed, and Cooper and Lila were on rollaways, sound asleep.

"… and Wanda sets the whole thing down on their runway, pretty as you please." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Of course, the man in charge wasn't too happy about it."

"You did what you had to, babe. They may have been your jailers, but you couldn't let them die."

Cuddling her close, Clint sighed. " _Ross_ didn't see it that way. He tried to arrest us again." Nathaniel snuffled, and rolled over, but didn't wake.

"How's Wanda doing? She okay? Did you tell her what we talked about?"

"Mm-hmm. And she said yes. Though the point is moot. She just turned twenty-one. Still, she's willing."

Laura brushed her fingers through his hair, touching the raised area near his left ear where he'd had surgery a couple of years ago. "Too bad her brother's gone. Cooper would've liked having a big brother. I'm glad we had him buried at your family plot in Waverly."

"Me too. With Sokovia in ruins, Wanda will never be able to visit her parents' graves. Least we could do is have her brother near."

Leaning back so she could see his face better, she asked, "What _aren't_ you telling me?"

After all their years together, Laura could read him like a grade school primer. "It's nothing really. Just… Wanda and Lang are dating."

"Scott Lang? The guy from San Francisco?" Clint rolled his eyes, making her laugh. "He's a little old for her, isn't he?"

Clint snorted. "Yeah. Like almost _twice_ her age. Tried talking to both of them, and…"

She gave him a pointed look. "Talk? Really?"

"Okay, fine. I kinda went a little overboard during the sparring session with Lang." He stopped Laura's protest with a kiss. "Wanda already read me the riot act. I don't need it from you too."

"That reminds me." His wife reached for her phone. "Agent Carter gave us a few hours to do some sightseeing in Vancouver before we came here, and we met the sweetest young man. Lila tripped on her shoelaces _again_ , and he caught her before she fell. I didn't even see him, and suddenly he was there." She scrolled through the phone until she found a short video. "He had the strangest accent too."

Cooper rolled his eyes, and waved his mother, and the camera, away. Nathaniel was in a highchair eating a banana. He put it down to drink from his sippy cup, and wave. Lila entered the frame dressed in pink pants, and a purple sweater, twirling, and dancing. She tripped, and a young man was suddenly there, catching her before she hit the ground. He even tied the laces for her with a double knot, and gave her a stern talking to about keeping her shoes tied. See?"

The video was taken outside a café where they'd stopped to rest and eat. A brown-haired young man was down on one knee, tying Lila's shoe, and smiling at her. Even through the video, Clint got the sense that the boy hadn't any ulterior motives other than being helpful. "I don't have any photos of the kids. Send the video to the secure email address."

Laura worked at the phone, and hit send. "There. All done." She set the phone on the nightstand. "I know you can't tell me where you're hiding out. I just hope things change soon so we can all go home."

"Talked to Carter about that. If you can put up with having a couple of undercover SHIELD agents under foot, she can get you home in a day or so. Their cover would be that they're helping out while I'm 'away'." Clint resisted making air quotes because he knew it annoyed her.

She sighed with relief. "Great. The kids are getting restless. They miss their friends, and school will be starting soon."

Clint kissed her forehead, and rubbed his cheek against the spot. "One condition, honey. Keep a weapon with you at all times."

She smiled, and touched his cheek. "My hero. Always coming to the rescue. Just like the day we met."

"It's a habit I'm in no hurry to break."

Snuggling closer, Laura murmured, "How's Nat?"

"Okay, I think. She went on some mysterious trip. Not sure where." He kissed her forehead again. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's a big day."

As he was about to drop off, Clint heard the back door open, and close again. Whoever it was didn't want anyone to know they'd been outside. Heavy footsteps on the stairs marked the person as male. He hadn't heard Lang come out of the room he was sharing with his ex-wife and daughter, so it had to be Wilson.

The footsteps passed his room, and continued down to the last room on the end. The shower came on, and went off a few minutes later. That was it for the night, or so he thought.

~~O~~

In the morning, Scott came down stairs carrying Cassie, with Maggie trailing behind. Clint was in the kitchen wearing an apron, a towel slung over one shoulder, and had set up the dining room table as a breakfast buffet. He opened the oven, and used a spatula to loosen biscuits from the cookie sheet while Sharon dropped them into a towel lined bowl.

Scott put Cassie down so she could to play with Clint's kids, and went to the stove. "Anything I can do?"

Clint looked around, and pointed. "Put the disposable plates, silverware, and napkins on the table, and the plastic glasses on the counter. There's juice, milk, and iced tea in the 'fridge, and I've got coffee working, so put out cups too."

Sharon finished with the biscuits, and went to put them on the table. As Sam came down the stairs to join them, they caught each other's eye, and looked away. Scott wondered if they'd had an argument the night before when he saw them sitting in the woods.

Sam sidestepped the kids playing on the floor, and barely missed tripping over a footstool. Relieved, he came into the kitchen. As he and Sharon made to pass, they did a strange little back and forth thing without looking at each other.

"Excuse me," Sam said, at the same time Sharon muttered, "Sorry."

She put the bowl of biscuits on the table, and went back to the kitchen, returning with butter, three different flavors of preserves, and honey, and put them with the biscuits. Then she turned to Clint. "I need to do a perimeter check. Back in thirty."

And she was gone without speaking to or barely acknowledging anyone else.

Sidling up to Sam, Scott nudged him. "What's with you and Cap's biggest fan?"

Sam exhaled loudly without stopping what he was doing. "Nothing's _with_ us, Lang. Just drop it."

Keeping his voice low, Scott whispered, "You're acting like the two of you got down and dirty, and now you're having morning after regrets."

Sam's head snapped around, his eyes wide. "Who told you that?"

"Chill, Sam. No one said a word. I was just…" Then it hit him, and it was his turn to be shocked. "You _did_! Dude! You and Carter?"

Turning to see if anyone was looking, Sam grated, "Keep your voice down, Lang. If anyone finds out…"

Maggie interrupted at that moment. "Hi. We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Maggie."

The scowl Sam had been wearing turned into a genuine smile of welcome as he put out his hand. "Sam Wilson. Glad to finally meet you, Ms. Lang."

"Paxton."

The look of confusion in Sam's eyes was almost comical. "Pardon?"

Maggie held up her left hand to show a gold band around her ring finger. "My last name is Paxton. I'm Scott's ex-wife. My fiancé and I got married a few weeks ago. You can call me Maggie."

"Oh. Sorry. I mean, that's great, Maggie."

A shrill whistle pierced the air, and the three Barton kids immediately stopped what they were doing and went into the downstairs bathroom, leaving door open while they washed their hands. Apparently this was a common occurrence in Clint's house when he did the cooking.

Clint came to the edge of the dining room just before it changed over to carpeting. "Breakfast is ready. Everyone get washed up. Mr. Lang's gonna pass out the drinks, while Mr. Wilson sets the small table for the kids."

Everyone scrambled to carry out their tasks, Clint giving Sam a contemplative look before going back to work.

 **Wakanda**

When she finally wound down, Natasha took one more deep breath, let it out, and looked up at Steve. "And there you have it."

He had only caught a few words. Something about the Red Room, and the matron, Madame B. He knew Natasha hated the woman, and he didn't blame her. Also, the words 'night', and 'soldier' came up several times, but he didn't have context. For a long moment, he watched her breathing in relief. "You done?"

She thought it over, and nodded. "Yes. At least for now." An appreciative smile turned up her lips, and she reached out to take his hand. "Thank you."

"Glad I could help. You do remember I don't speak Russian?"

That smile turned into her ever present smirk, bringing the sparkle back to her green eyes. "I know. Not ready for it to be common knowledge yet, but I had to tell someone."

Steve opened the door, and ushered her out. "Think you're ready to eat something?"

"Sure. The Cesky Gulas smelled heavenly." They went into the stairwell, and started down. "Think the chef knows how to make Solyanka?"

As they reached the first floor, Steve stood in front of the door so Natasha couldn't leave. "While you're in the mood to confess, I gotta ask. What _really_ happened in Budapest? _Don't_ say it's classified." He held up a finger when she opened her mouth. "In _English_."

Natasha pursed her lips to keep from laughing, and he could see what it cost her. He placed his back against the door, and crossed his arms, fully prepared to keep her there until the story was told.

She mirrored his stance, crossing her arms, but not in a defensive or protective way. Looking down at her feet, she shook her head. Finally, Natasha let their eyes meet again. " _Nothing_ happened in Budapest."

"What do you mean 'nothing'?"

"I mean the mission went off like clockwork. It was a simple exfiltration. _That_ part is classified. In, out, over, and done in less than a day when we'd planned on being there for at least a week.

"The rest… Clint and I hadn't had downtime for months, and suddenly we had six days free. He and Laura weren't together yet, so we just hung out in Budapest, slept late, played tourist, went sightseeing, and generally didn't do a damn thing we didn't feel like doing."

Clamping his teeth together to keep from gaping at her stupidly, Steve instead cleared his throat. "So when you said, 'This is just like Budapest all over again'…"

Natasha leaned close as if she were sharing a secret. "We were on an open frequency, Steve. It was a _joke_. Something to drive the rest of the team crazy trying to figure out what happened."

Hanging his head, Steve made the arbitrary decision not to tell the rest of the team. "And you got us. It also explains the strange looks from Hill and Fury, and the comment, 'that's classified' when I asked about it." He grabbed the door handle, and stopped. "Does that mean the mission in Toronto was a joke too?"

"When the mark turned out to be gay and Clint had to seduce him to get the codes?"

"Yeah."

She motioned for Steve to open the door, and stepped through, saying over her shoulder, "Oh, no. _That_ was true."

 **TBC**

Cesky Gulas = Czech Goulash is a simpler version of Hungarian Goulash.

Solyanka = A thick, spicy and sour Russian soup that is common in Russia and other states of the former Soviet Union and certain parts of the former Eastern Bloc.


	28. It's All Because of You

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **It's All Because of You**

The scent of food reached Natasha long before she and Steve returned to the dining room, making her stomach rumble. For the first time since before her trip to Russia, she felt hungry. She would accept Wanda's invitation to eat with them, and get to know her better. Something that was sadly lacking in their relationship.

Since Bruce's disappearance, the situation with Bucky, and the Accords, she hadn't given much thought to the strange and not unwelcome tug in Wanda's direction when they were alone together. Now she had a name for the nurturing instinct that came over her at unguarded moments, and she finally understood how Clint felt about being away from his family.

Natasha wanted to tell Wanda the truth of her birth, and why her biological parents hadn't been around to see she and Pietro grow up, and who was at fault. Most of all, she wanted Wanda to know that, if her life, and Bucky's, had been different, they would've been there for them every step of the way.

She was torn. Should she wait until Bucky came out of cryo so they could tell the others together, or talk to Wanda first? The first option seemed the best. If Wanda knew, it might interfere with her ability to help Bucky.

As they left the food line, Natasha saw that Wanda was still at the same table alone, reading a book.

Natasha smiled. "Is the invitation to join you still open?"

"Of course."

Once she was seated, Steve placed a bowl of Cesky Gulas and the cup of hot ashwagandha tea in front of her, passed her a napkin and silverware then served himself. Going through the line, Natasha had convinced him to try the Goulash, and he reluctantly agreed.

She draped the napkin over her lap, and picked up the spoon, using it to push the food around in the bowl. "This smelled so good, I had to try it."

Before she could start small talk designed to let her get to know the girl better, Hill came by carrying a tray. Steve rushed to drag over two more chairs when they saw Cameron coming into the dining room. The super-soldier waved to him, and the tech nodded. A few minutes later, he joined them, hesitating a moment before taking the seat next to Hill.

"I'm glad we're all together," Steve remarked after taking a long drink of ice tea. "When Clint, Scott, and Sam get back, we need to have a meeting."

"Yes, we do," Natasha agreed, even knowing that they each had different reasons.

Cameron picked up half of his sandwich and took a bite, glancing from one to the other without joining the conversation. Hill wasn't as reticent. "What about, oh, fearless leader?"

The mild glare Steve flashed at the group was tinted with humor. "We can't keep taking handouts from T'Challa."

"You want us to get jobs?" Wanda asked, setting the book on her lap.

"To do that, we need work visas, or whatever passes for them here."

A gentle throat clearing came from Cameron. He seemed a little flustered that the attention was suddenly all on him. "Wakanda requires forms to be filled out and presented to the king's council of advisors. Because Wakanda has kept to itself for so long, they don't have more detailed laws governing entry, and working within the country's borders. And as always, the king has final say, once you've passed the ruling council, that is."

"Where can we get these forms?"

"They're online, Captain Rogers. I'll send them to everyone later today."

Not surprised that Cameron was cognizant of Wakandan law, Natasha scooped up a spoonful of the goulash. "We can't go on living here either."

Hill shifted in her seat, eyeing Cameron with an unreadable expression. "So work visas, jobs, and a place to live. Let's just table the discussion until the guys get back, unless T'Challa brings it up. Think about what we'd like do."

"Right. Wakanda has no need for superheroes and spies." Steve took a silent vote, nudging Cameron when he kept his eye on his food. The tech nodded, and that was that.

Conversation went onto other, less serious things. While Steve was regaling them with funny stories about his and Bucky's childhood, Natasha watched Wanda's face, looking for something familiar in her features, and found it. Her smile was all Bucky, and her eyes were the same color of green as Natasha's.

After a while, they got up to leave, and Natasha followed Wanda out into the hall, catching up to her in the front lobby. "Wanda, what do you do for exercise?"

"Mostly long walks. Scott and I rode a tandem the other day. Why?"

One side of Natasha's mouth turned up. "Ever thought of learning martial arts, hand-to-hand, or self-defense?"

"Not really. Though I shouldn't always rely on my powers to stop the bad guys."

"Good. The gym in three hours good for you?" At Wanda's nod, Natasha returned to her room to think.

 **Vancouver**

 **Late Evening**

Standing in the kitchen, washing the last of the pans from dinner, Sharon looked out the window, and saw Sam heading into the trees again. She had avoided him all day like a virgin whose first time didn't go the way she'd hoped. A situation that went both ways, apparently, because he hadn't tried to talk to her either.

Joining him last night, she hadn't given a single thought to sex. She just went for a walk, and to talk, to find out how everyone was doing. And she still wasn't sure how it happened. One minute, they were talking about Aunt Peggy, and the next, they were ripping each other's clothes off. The cool air had chilled her naked skin, but she didn't care. It had been so long since she'd let a man get close enough to breech her defenses, she could barely remember. Okay, that was a lie. But Steve didn't really count. All they'd done was kiss, and that had been weird, like Aunt Peggy was watching, and disapproving, as if they were committing incest.

The thought that she and Steve might be distantly related had crossed Sharon's mind. Using her position for personal gain was frowned upon, but the lab tech had a bit of a crush on her, and was more than happy to run a DNA comparison. To her relief, she and Steve weren't related, but that didn't stop the weirdness from creeping in each time they were together. Now she knew his hesitation had little to do with his lack of experience.

The next item to tick off her to-do list was to decide how she felt about her and Sam, and if she wanted to continue what could only be a long-distance relationship. Did he even _want_ to make the attempt to turn a one night stand into something other than the occasional bump and grind? Sharon had never shied away from a challenge before. She could do this.

She dried her hands on a towel, went into the room she shared with one of the other agents, and came out a few minutes later in clean clothes, hair combed, and fresh gloss on her lips. Not that she was dressing for Sam. In situations like this, it was important to look your best, under the circumstances.

Sharon marched out the door, and down the path to where she'd found Sam the night before. He turned around at her approach, and came to his feet, watching her with those dark brown eyes she found so captivating as she came to stand in front of him. "We have to talk."

"Yes, we do," he agreed. Barely a second passed before they were once again locked in a passionate embrace.

 **On the Quinjet**

 **The Next Morning**

Once the quinjet was in the air, Clint set the autopilot, and went to the back. "You ready for those flying lessons, Lang?"

Startled, as if he though Clint had forgotten, Scott shot to his feet. "Sure."

Clint made an after you gesture, and as he went to follow, he noticed Sam sitting at starboard, arms crossed, slumped in his seat, cap pulled down over his eyes, and grinning like the Cheshire Cat from Lila's favorite story, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. If Clint didn't know better, he'd say that Sam had gotten laid last night.

Shaking his head, the archer went to the front, and had Scott sit at the controls while he went over the function of each. His student nodded, and asked pertinent questions, which Clint dutifully answered. "Think you've got it?"

Scott shrugged. "Working on it."

Reaching over his shoulder, Clint flipped off the autopilot. "Take the stick for a while. Stay on that heading, and keep the wings level."

Leaving Scott alone, Clint wandered into the back to watch Sam dozing off again. He had a brief moment where he thought about outing his teammate, if just between the three of them. Instead, he went into the latrine.

 **Wakanda**

 **The Cryolab**

Wanda relaxed as Kaya inserted an IV that would keep her hydrated, and her blood sugar level in case she stayed inside Bucky's mind for more than a few hours.

Kaya taped the needle so it wouldn't be pulled out by accident, and smiled. "There. All ready."

She gripped the doctor's hand. "You've been so kind. How can we ever thank you?"

"It's not necessary, _bokkie_. You are Steven's friends, and now mine."

" _Bokkie_?"

The doctor smiled gently. "It is a term of endearment meaning 'little buck' or 'doe'." Kaya removed the IV tray, and left Wanda alone with Bucky and the panthers.

Akwete and Doto seldom left Bucky's side since they'd been allowed in. And as long as they knew you, there wasn't a problem coming around to visit. They sat up, one on either side of her, watching as she opened the port, and touched Bucky's hand. As on previous occasions, she was instantly transported into his mind.

She found him as she'd left him. Standing in an empty space, dressed as the Winter Soldier, looking like he hadn't moved from that spot since Kaya abruptly pulled her out of their last session. Not knowing what could set him off, Wanda again approached him slowly. "Bucky?"

He slowly turned to face her, his eyes distant, and unfocused. Wanda moved closer, taking his hand, and squeezing. "Look at me."

As if just noticing she was there, Bucky looked down at her, and though he didn't smile, he seemed relieved, as though he thought she wasn't coming back.

"I've been waiting for you."

She smiled fondly. "I would've come sooner, but the doctor insisted that I take time to rest, and get some exercise."

"Yeah? Why?"

"Last time, I was here for twelve hours."

Bucky nodded understand, and sympathy. "Wow. Didn't seem like that long."

"Mm-hmm. For exercise, Natasha is teaching me self-defense."

He looked at her curiously. "You never learned?"

"No." She held up her free hand, creating the red mist of her psionics. "With this, I have little need to get into a physical confrontation. However, it seemed important to Natasha that we spend the time together."

"How was it?"

Grinning, Wanda tilted her head. "More enjoyable than I thought it would be."

With a thoughtful expression, Bucky asked, "Do you work out? Run, stuff like that?"

"Not really." She released his hand, and demonstrated, manipulating a ball of red mist. "Using my hands helps me focus."

Wanda wrapped her fingers around his palm, feeling the same burst of familiarity she noticed the first time they touched. Not just closeness. His touch reminded her of long walks she and Pietro would take with their parents, and the comfort they got from that simple contact. "Let's go."

Starting forward, she was stopped by Bucky standing fast, a sheepish not-grin on his handsome face. "Just give me a minute." He breathed deeply several times then nodded. To prove he was serious about being cured, he grasped the doorknob, and turned it. As before, the pair were enveloped in a white light, and reappeared inside the room.

They released each other, turning in a circle to take in their surroundings. Instead of entering the actual memories, they'd come into another room that was filled with more doors, each with a date, but no description. Some of the dates were familiar, though she couldn't recall why, except for the last one.

 _August 22, 1989_

 _May 30, 1961_

 _October 7, 2006_

 _July 30, 1975_

 _October 6, 1981_

 _December 16, 1991_

 _April 4, 1968_

 _October 11, 2001_

 _March 18, 1977_

 _November 22, 1963_

Wanda remembered learning about the assassination of the American president in her World History class shortly before their parents died. A sad day for all. Doubly so to learn that Bucky may have been responsible for the act.

Two other doors had no dates or notations, though one was faded red with a black star. "Why are those blank?"

Bucky's eyes tracked back and forth, from one door to the other, the faintest spark of an unidentifiable emotion in their blue depths. Fear, shame, anguish, frustration? "I… I don't know."

"We'll leave them for last, shall we?"

"Please." Choosing one at random, July 30, 1975, Bucky opened the door. "After you."

 **On the Quinjet**

Bored while Scott did the flying, Clint roamed around the back of the quinjet, poking into the gear, making coffee, purposely bumping into Sam, hoping he'd want to play cards or something, and generally making a nuisance of himself.

When that didn't work, to amuse himself, Clint hummed a song. Sam lifted his cap, and glared, but Clint was unfazed. Natasha did the death glare better. Plus, he was more scared of what _she'd_ do than Sam.

Clint laughed to himself at the realization of the name of the song he was humming, and switched over to singing.

 _Oh mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law  
Lawman has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home_

 _Oh mama, I can hear you a-crying you're so scared and all alone  
Hangman is coming down from the gallows and I don't have very long_

When Clint started singing, Sam pushed the cap back on his head, and sat up. Getting into the swing, he drummed to the beat on the console next to him. He and Scott joined in the singing at the same time.

 _The jig is up the news is out they've finally found me  
The renegade who had it made retrieved for a bounty_

 _Never more to go astray  
This will be the end today of the wanted man_

 _Oh mama, I've been years on the lam and had a high price on my head  
Lawman said get him dead or alive now it's for sure he'll see me dead_

 _Dear mama, I can hear you crying you're so scared and all alone  
Hangman is coming down from the gallows and I don't have very long_

 _The jig is up, the news is out they finally found me  
The renegade who had it made retrieved for a bounty_

 _Never more to go astray  
The judge'll have revenge today on the wanted man_

The singing stopped when the quinjet hit turbulence, shaking so hard that Scott couldn't keep it steady. He and Clint switched out, and the shaking stopped. Standing over Clint, Scott drummed on the back of the pilot's seat, going back into the song. Sam came forward, and the three friends brought it to a rousing end.

 _Oh mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law  
Hangman is coming down from the gallows and I don't have very long_

 _The jig is up, the news is out they finally found me  
The renegade who had it made retrieved for a bounty_

 _Never more to go astray  
This'll be the end today of the wanted man, the wanted man_

Over his shoulder, Clint said, "Strap in, guys. We're almost there."

 **Wakanda**

 **The Cryolab**

Standing in the shadows with Bucky, Wanda wondered what was going through his mind. Or if his only thoughts were about the memory they were watching.

The sign on the corner gave the street name as Telegraph Road. By the sign near the sidewalk, anyone driving by would know that this was the Machus Red Fox restaurant. The sun was shining, and there were only a few cars in the parking lot when a dark green sedan drove in, and parked facing the street.

"Where are we?"

"This was way before you were born, _malenkaya_." Bucky nodded at the car. "That is a 1974 Pontiac Grand Ville. The address here is 6676 Telegraph Road, Bloomfield Township, outside of Detroit."

Annoyed that he wasn't answering the question, Wanda sifted her weight onto one foot, and crossed her arms. "And that's supposed to mean something?"

Shaking his head, Bucky waited until the man behind the wheel got out. "His name is Jimmy Hoffa. He was a labor union leader who disappeared without a trace in 1975." He pointed with his chin, and put a finger to his lips for quiet.

A man in a sport jacket, no tie, and the first button of his shirt left open walked up to Hoffa, and engaged him in conversation. Hoffa looked down, and they could see the other man had a gun hidden inside a newspaper. Two men in a maroon sedan pulled up next to them, and Hoffa was loaded into the back seat, pushed to the floor, and covered with a grey blanket. The sped up as he pulled into the street, nearly hitting a delivery truck before driving away.

Wanda and Bucky remained where they were instead of the scene changing to the next part of the memory. She looked over at him, and he had his head down.

"You were the driver, weren't you?"

He moved away from her. "We took him to a secluded area where he and I were sent into the woods. My orders were to dispose of him in such a way that he would never be found."

A memory inside her own mind begged to be noticed, and Wanda examined it. "I remember now. Even today, no one knows what really happened." She held his hand, waiting until he looked at her. "Let's go. We've seen enough."

There was the familiar pulling sensation, but instead of appearing outside the doors, the pair found themselves on a grassy area with hundreds of people dressed in the style of the sixties. Everyone was watching and waiting as a black convertible turned onto the street. They all cheered and waved to the man sitting next to a woman in the back seat. With a start, Wanda realized that they were in Dallas, Texas, near the Texas School Book Depository.

Even knowing it would do no good, Wanda ran into the street, waving her arms, and yelling. "Stop! Stop!"

Shots rang out, echoing so that it was difficult to place their origin. President Kennedy jerked at the impact of the shots, and fell forward. Stunned, Wanda was rooted in place as people screamed, and ran in all directions. The limo driver sped away from the scene, passing through Wanda as if she weren't there.

To her left, in the shadows at the top of the grassy knoll, she saw a figure lower his rifle, and as he turned, light glinted off the metal of his left hand.

She fell to her knees in the middle of the street, a hand over her mouth. A tear slid down her cheek as Bucky helped her back to the side of the road, and let her down on the grass. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Not my idea, doll."

Suddenly angry, Wanda surged to her feet, and quickly walked away from the scene with Bucky on her heels. He stopped her near the fountain, turning her to face him. She pushed his hands away.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Waving her arms, she indicating their location, and all the previous ones. "This is all _about_ you! _You_ , and no one else. Everywhere we've gone, everything we've seen, everything we've done, it's all _you_. I'm trying to help, and you won't let me. You're stalling by taking me through memories that have nothing to do with breaking free of the hold HYDRA has had on you for more than seventy years!"

Her chest was heaving from the amount of adrenalin her anger, and shock at seeing Kennedy assassinated had dumped into her system. She grabbed his hand, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were once again surrounded by the doors. "It's time to see what's behind the red and black one."

A breeze popped up, blowing the white mist around, and spinning the doors so fast that she couldn't tell one from the other. Then sudden, they stopped, and Wanda stared curiously at those in front of her. The Winter Soldier room was faded red with the black star, but now the other, which had been an ordinary brown wooden door with nothing to set it apart from the others, was made of steel and painted blood red. At the top appeared "2R".

Wanda tried the door, but it was locked, just as before. "What does that mean? 2R?"

"I don't remember." He took her hand, tugging her away, speaking in Russian for the first time since this began. "I'd like to leave, Natalia."

She responded in the same language. "Who?"

Looking at her with confusion, Bucky asked, "Sorry?"

Curiosity led Wanda to say, "You called me Natalia. Who is she?"

Though he tried to hide it, she could see that Bucky was remembering, some, if not all, of his time with this mysterious Natalia. He switched to English. "Someone I knew a long time ago."

"Did you love her?"

He smiled affectionately. "Yes, very much. We even had a child together." A hand waved casually, changing the subject. "You're in charge, doll. Choose."

Thinking everything through, Wanda made her decision. "We've seen enough bad memories for today. How about something fun?" The doors spun once more, stopping on one that was orange with splashes of yellow in a random pattern. "Yes. That one."

Bucky opened the door, and ushered her through. The light engulfed them, and the door slammed shut.

 **TBC**

 _Ue o Muite Arukō (I Look Up as I Walk_ _)_ is a Japanese-language song that was performed by Japanese crooner Kyu Sakamoto, and written by lyricist Rokusuke Ei and composer Hachidai Nakamura. For this chapter, the name the song was given when it was recorded in English has been used, _Sukiyaki_ , or _It's All Because of You_ , by A Taste of Honey, released March 1980.

 _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ (commonly shortened to _Alice in Wonderland_ ) is an 1865 novel written by English mathematician Charles Lutwidge Dodgson under the pseudonym Lewis Carroll. It tells of a girl named Alice falling through a rabbit hole into a fantasy world populated by peculiar, anthropomorphic creatures. The tale plays with logic, giving the story lasting popularity with adults as well as with children.

 _Renegade_ is a 1979 hit song recorded by the American rock band Styx. It was written by guitarist, and lead vocalist Tommy Shaw.

On July 30, 1975, near Detroit, former Teamsters Union president Jimmy Hoffa was reported missing after his car was found abandoned outside of the Machus Red Fox, a restaurant in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, where he had said he had an appointment to have lunch with longtime friends, Detroit mobster Anthony Giacalone and Anthony Provenzano. Giacalone denied that he had been aware of any plans for a luncheon date. A missing person's report was filed the next day after Hoffa failed to return to his home in Lake Orion.

John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States, was assassinated at 12:30 p.m. Central Standard Time (18:30 UTC) on Friday, November 22, 1963, in Dealey Plaza, Dallas, Texas.


	29. Warm Memories

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 _"_ _Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories._ _"_

 _~ Terry McKay,_ _An Affair to Remember_ _, 1957_

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Warm Memories**

The door to the stairwell for the residential wing opened slowly, and Cameron stuck his head out, ready to duck back inside at the least provocation. He breathed a sigh of relief that the hallway was empty. Stepping into the hall, he held the door so it wouldn't slam, and turned in the direction of his room.

As he came around the corner, he stumbled to a halt at seeing Hill sitting with her back against the wall and her eyes closed. Turning around, he quickly headed back the way he'd come, escaping into the stairs. He'd gotten as far as the next floor when the door above opened.

"Come back here, Klein!"

Cameron's natural inclination was to obey what sounded like an order. However, he no longer worked for her, and so he kept going. Hill's footsteps on the stairs encouraged him to move faster, and with his longer legs, he reached the lobby while she was still several floors up. He looked for some means of escape, and ran out the front door.

He'd nearly reached the market where he could lose himself in the crowd when Hill stepped in front of him. Startled, he stumbled back a step. She stood with her hands down at her sides, her chest heaving, apparently from running to catch up to him. The glare she leveled on him would've destroyed someone who hadn't built up a tolerance over the years.

Hill reached out, and Cameron proudly stood his ground, prepared for the punch he was certain to receive. His eyes widened in confusion when she grabbed his hand, and dragged him through the crowded market to the little café where they stopped on nearly every walk. The young woman who always waited on them rushed out with two iced chai teas, and a plate of ginger cookies.

Keeping his eyes on the tabletop, Cameron nibbled on a cookie, and chased it with a long drink of tea. He wiped his mouth, and wondered how he could get away.

After a while, he relaxed, and plucked another cookie from the plate. Quick as a snake, Hill grabbed his wrist, holding on until he let their eyes meet.

" _Why_ are you avoiding me, Cam?" He tugged, but she refused to let go. "Are you embarrassed that we slept together?"

"No."

Her fingers opened, and he put that hand in his lap with the other one. "Regrets? Misgivings? Guilt?"

With each word, Cameron shook his head.

"Disappointment then."

Appalled that she would think he'd been dissatisfied with their time together, Cameron finally looked at her. " _God_ , no. Not at all. It's just that…" How to word what he was feeling without causing hurt? "All the time Jane and I were together, I thought she was _you_. For a while, I thought I loved her, even though the little voice inside my head was telling me not to believe a word she said. And it turned out the voice was right. She was an imposter who only wanted information, leading me around by my hormones in hopes that I'd be so infatuated with her that anything she wanted, I'd happily give it to her.

"Then I find out that you were imprisoned for over two years, and I was sleeping with a KGB agent. We're exiled to Wakanda for God knows how long, and the real you and I… Well, it was mind-blowing. Uh, for me, at least."

One side of her mouth turned up in a grin. "Me too."

"After you went to your room, I got to thinking, and realized…" He looked away, unable to say the words. Hill lay her hand on the table face up, and Cameron placed his palm over hers

"That I'm over thirty, and you're the first man I've ever been intimate with." His eyes searched hers waiting for her to refute his conclusion, but all she did was smile and shrug sheepishly. "It's true."

"But how… Why…" Taking a deep breath to calm his stuttering, Cameron forged ahead, "… _Really_?"

She chuckled. "Yes. Really." Hill weaved their fingers together. "For me, sex is the ultimate show of trust because you're allowing the other person to see the real you, scars and all. No pretense. You're exposed, and vulnerable. You're literally letting another person inside you."

Honored, Cameron couldn't stop a delighted smile from lighting up his features. "Thank you. I won't let you down, Maria."

"I know." The server came out to check on them. As she turned away, Hill touched her on the arm. "Excuse me." She motioned between the two of them. "We're sleeping together."

The girl, who didn't speak English, stared in confusion, making Hill and Cameron laugh.

 **Main Post Office**

The guard overseeing the transfer of mail sent internationally to Wakanda held tight to the lead of his partner, a black and white Aidi. The breed was used to sniff out bombs, drugs, and other illegal substances due to its hunting and scenting abilities.

Using a dolly, the driver moved a stack of boxes from the back of the truck to the loading dock.

Immediately, the dog pulled on the lead, and the guard followed. The dog sniffed all around the stack until he came to one that was approximately eighteen inches on each side. The guard called for the building to be evacuated, and the bomb squad activated.

The employees streamed out of the building, some even moving their cars, scooters, and bicycles to the minimum safe distance, and a short time later, several police and SWAT vehicles screeched to a stop in front and back.

Two men set up a robot, and sent it in through the open loading dock, watching its progress on the monitor. Down the right side of the screen were graphs indicating the chemicals detected. The woman at the computer shared puzzled looks when the analysis showed that the contents were _not_ a bomb, or other weapon of mass destruction.

Wearing protective gear just in case, the older of the two men went inside, and came out a few minutes later with the box in a canister designed to contain the blast. It was taken to their lab, and placed inside a blast containment room. The tech conferred with his superior, and he in turn contacted King T'Challa.

Thirty minutes later, T'Challa arrived with Natasha and Steve in tow. The trio stood in front of the window that looked into the containment area.

"Who knows you're here, Nat?"

"Just Friday, but she's sworn to secrecy. She won't tell Stark." Taking a deep breath, Natasha let it out before speaking again. "This must be the package Friday said was sent to the compound from Kazakhstan. That's where I found Madame B., the matron at the Red Room, busily teaching a new crop of young people how to be spies."

The trio watched raptly as the tech carefully unsealed the box, bent the flaps out of the way and peered inside. His posture stiffened, and he took a half step back.

T'Challa addressed the intercom. "What is it?"

The tech reached in, and carefully lifted out a severed head. Natasha gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand, whispering, " _Bozhe moi_."

Steve touched her shoulder. "Nat?'

Natasha nodded, and turned to Steve and T'Challa. "It's her, Madame B. I've never known her real name." She turned her back to the window, leaning against the console. "We spoke not a week ago."

"You didn't…"

"No. Of course not. She was alive when I left." She snorted humorlessly. "Though you only have my word on that because I shut down the video feeds."

" _Commander?_ " They faced the window again. The tech was holding an envelope sealed in plastic so they could see 'Natalia' written in neat handwriting on the front.

His superior shared a look with Natasha. At her nod, he told the man, "Open it."

The tech did as he was told holding up the note so all could see what it said.

 _Teper' my svobodny_

Without being asked, Natasha translated, "Now we are free."

 **Vancouver**

 **The Clancy Home**

 **After Midnight**

After a long day of applying for jobs, and looking into college courses he could take online, Taylor trudged up the stairs and into his bedroom. He took his pajamas from the middle drawer of the dresser, kicked his shoes off, and went down the hall to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Leaning one hand on the sink, he stared at his reflection, turning his head side to side. Perhaps if he shaved the beard companies would be more willing to hire him. _Nah. If they don't like me as I am, I'll go somewhere else_. Taking out his toothbrush, he squirted toothpaste on it, brushed, rinsed, and was finally ready for bed. He carried his dirty clothes down to the laundry room in the basement, sorting them according to color and fabric. Before going to his job interview, he'd wash clothes, and clean the downstairs.

Back in his room, Taylor lay face down on the bed with the pillow bunched under his chest. He closed his eyes, and sighed, falling asleep almost immediately.

His dreams were disjointed, erratic, like someone had broken several mirrors, and tried to put them back together without knowing which pieces went to what. He saw faces, and places that were unfamiliar.

 _He was ten years old, sitting at the dinner table across from a young girl the same age, with dark red ribbons in her hair. To his left and right sat a man and a woman, all with food in front of them, talking about their day, and their plans for the coming weekend._

 _The whistle-boom of shelling disturbed their usually quiet family time, shaking the building. Dust and bits of plaster fell on them as the man herded the woman and children into the most protected room in the apartment: the bathroom._

 _When the man didn't come back right away, the woman put the girl and boy in the tub, and covered them with a blanket. But the girl was scared, so they went looking for the adults. Holding her hand, they crept into the front room, and jumped back, screaming when another shell hit._

 _The children watched in horror as the floor opened up, and the adults fell. Keeping the girl behind him, the boy peeked over the side, but all he could see was rubble, and what might have been the man's legs sticking out from under a slab of concrete that had once been their dining room floor._

 _There was a shrieking whistle, and the boy pushed the girl ahead of him into the bedroom. They crawled under the bed, huddled together crying as another shell hit. It landed just a few feet from them, but didn't explode._

Taylor jerked awake, and the dream ended. While he couldn't remember all the details, the fear lingered. Sitting up on the side of the bed, he dropped his head into his hands, and rubbed the temples to ease a headache. When that didn't work, he padded to the bathroom, poured two pain relievers into his palm, and swallowed them with water.

On his way back to bed, dizziness came over Taylor. He leaned a hand on the wall until the world stopped spinning, and returned to his room. Lying down again, this time on his back, he watched the shadows dancing on the walls and ceiling. This wasn't the first time he'd dealt with dizzy spells and headaches. Both had been getting steadily worse in the weeks since they'd arrived in Vancouver, but he hadn't said anything to Julia and Adam because he didn't want to worry them.

There were other strange things happening to him that he also kept to himself. If any of the Clancy's had noticed, they hadn't said. Ryan would've asked questions, and Quinn would go to Julia with her concerns. He grinned. Quinn was a drama queen, meaning that expressing worry amounted to the girl running through the house shouting at the top of her lungs, "Mom! Mom! Come quick! Somethin's wrong with Taylor! Mo-o-o-o-om!"

Taylor's humor turned to curiosity and disgust when he caught the scent of burning tar. While it wasn't impossible, given the time of night, it was highly unlikely that anyone would be tarring their roof.

He glanced at the clock, puzzled. When he came back to bed after getting the pain pills, it had been just after two in the morning. Now it was closer to three, though he was certain he'd only been lying here for a few minutes. _Probably read the time wrong_ , he thought, dismissing the event.

Pulling the covers up to his neck, Taylor rolled onto his side, tucked one hand under his pillow, and closed his eyes.

 **In the Morning**

Holding the front door open, Taylor handed each member of the family a thermal lunch bag, accepted a kiss from Julia, and a hug from Quinn. Adam gave him a smile, and Ryan snatched the bag, and ran to get in the back seat of his dad's SUV, calling out, "Don't forget it's video game night, Tay!"

"I won't, Ry! You're goin' down, my man! Down!"

Adam put an end to the banter by starting the engine, and backed out of the driveway.

Taylor closed the front door, and went to the stereo. He chose the most recent CD for his favorite band, Ambiguous, dropped it in the player, and turned it up loud enough to be heard all over the house.

Snapping his fingers to the beat, he made a mental list of the chores to get done before changing, and going to his job interview. Singing along, he ran down to the basement to start the washer. While that was going, he cleaned the kitchen, and the living room. After moving the clothes to the dryer, and starting the next load, he dusted and watered all the plants.

By the time Taylor finished all the laundry, put the clean clothes on the beds in his family's rooms, and had lunch, the CD had ended. He turned off the stereo, and went to get ready for the job interview he had lined up.

Standing in the bathroom with just a towel around his waist, Taylor wiped moisture from the mirror. Turning his head, he examined his hair. This time, he'd used a different brand of hair color that seemed to have more staying power. He used a comb to tame the unruly mop, adding a small amount of gel to keep it out of his face.

With a sigh, he took out the electric razor to trim his beard, and neaten around the edges. Something he had to do every day because it grew so fast. Same with his hair. After several weeks of trimming it every Saturday night, he switched to once a month. This was week three. Next week would be soon enough.

In his room, Taylor changed into the suit Adam had helped him buy, tied the tie, and shoved his phone into his inside pocket with his wallet. He stopped to give his look another onceover in the mirror by the front door, nodding with satisfaction.

The grandfather clock struck twelve forty-five, and his appointment was for one. According to the online mapping site, the address was a forty-minute drive away. Taylor grinned to himself. _Plenty of time_.

He made a quick check that all the windows and doors were locked, and left by the back door. In the alley, he glanced around to make sure he wasn't being watched, and took off, arriving at his appointment with ten minutes to spare.

Taylor did one more hair check using his reflection in the window, tugged his cuffs into place, and went inside. He smiled at the receptionist. "Taylor Clancy. I have a one o'clock appointment with Ms. Wentworth."

The young man nodded. "Have a seat. She'll be out in a few minutes."

Two hours later, he was the proud new fulfillment/stocking employee for the local Virtuosity fulfillment office. Virtuosity was the largest Internet-based retailer in the world, and he'd gotten the job by offering to show them what he could do. Taking off his jacket and tie, Taylor rolled up his sleeves, and hit the ground running. His speed in getting packages ready for shipment so impressed the manager that he was hired on the spot. On Monday, he would be sent to the lab for his drug test. _Easy-peasy_.

He spent the rest of the afternoon filling out virtual paperwork, being introduced to the staff, and training on the software the company used to keep track of its world-wide shipping. Some expressed surprise at hearing his accent, but said nothing.

Ryan and Quinn were just being dropped off by the carpool when he returned to the house. Quinn rushed to give him a hug, and he responded by kissing her on the head through the hat she wore to cover her mostly bald head. "How as school today, _sestrenka_?"

"It was okay. I went on the merry-go-round for the first time since before I was sick." Keeping an arm around her shoulders, they went inside. "Tay, why do you call me sest… sets…"

" _Sestrenka_."

"Yeah."

Taylor helped her off with her Hello, Kitty backpack, and jacket. He handed the bag to Quinn, and hung the jacket in the hall closet. "It means 'little sister' in my language."

"I thought you didn't remember nothin'."

"Anything," he corrected automatically. "I do remember some things like speaking, languages, how to take care of myself, things like that. Just not who I am, or where I'm from."

Taking the backpack, Taylor walked with Quinn to the dining room table where she liked to do her homework, and set it on a chair. The girl leaned on the back of the chair, looking up at him with serious brown eyes. "You're not from Bucharest?"

The conversation made Taylor uncomfortable, but he didn't want to discourage Quinn's curiosity. "The psychologist at the hospital had a linguist come in to hear me speak the languages in which I'm fluent. He wasn't certain of my country of birth, only that I was most likely from Eastern Europe. The area near the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Hungary."

"You're gonna be okay, right?"

Squatting down so that he was eye to eye with Quinn, he touched her on the shoulder. "Of course I am, _lyubimaya_. And I promise you this: Even if I remember who I am, I will never, ever forget you, Ryan, or your mom and dad. You took me in when I had nowhere to go, and all of you treat me as if I'm family. We share a bond that will never be broken."

"Good." Quinn threw her arms around his neck, and hugged him tight. "I love you, Tay."

He held her close. "Love you too, Quinn."

 **Wakanda**

 **The Cryolab**

The lift doors opened, and Natasha shot between them, rushing into the lab, stopping in front of Bucky's cryotube.

Steve followed at a more leisurely pace, watching her curiously as she stared at Bucky and Wanda. He took up a position behind and to one side, hands shoved in his pockets. Every few seconds, the side-by-side vital signs display would blip, rising until just short of the level that would trigger the alarms, and return to normal.

Kaya came to stand next to Steve, a concerned frown on her pretty face. She leaned close to whisper, "Wanda has been in this state for several hours. For the most part, her vital signs are normal. If she doesn't come out soon, I'll have to take the initiative again."

"I'm sure she'll understand." Steve would've said more. However, he was interrupted by Natasha suddenly pushing between them, and striding away. The look on her face, her unreadable mask, told him something was wrong. He muttered a distracted "Excuse me", and followed his friend out of the clinic, finding her pacing angrily in the hall. When he appeared, she grabbed his hand, dragged him to the residential wing, and into her room, slamming the door.

Natasha crossed her arms, and nodded for him to have a seat. He sat on the end of the bed, hands clasped loosely between his knees, waiting for her to begin.

"I have something to tell you, Steve."

"In English this time, I hope."

She shot him a glare, but it didn't have any real power behind it. "Don't interrupt."

Steve held his hands up indicating he accepted her terms.

"Remember me telling you about the ballet company?"

"When you married Alexei, yes."

Facing away from him, Natasha stared at the blank wall as if she were gazing out the window, or into the past. She opened the bottom dresser drawer, took out a wooden box, and handed it to him. "Open it."

Steve did so, and found a wooden ring box, and a stack of envelopes that looked old, and well worn. "Are these from Alexei?"

"Yes. And no." Natasha took out one envelope, withdrew the contents, three sheets of matching stationery, and held them out. "Have a look."

Reluctant to read her personal mail, Steve shook his head. "Nat, I don't think…"

She pushed the pages at him harder. "Look at it!"

He set the box aside, and unfolded the pages. All three were blank. She plucked the smaller box out, and showed him the ring. It didn't look anything like the one she'd described getting on her wedding day. Even Steve could tell it was fake, and not worth much.

"Even after I got word that Alexei had died, I would wear my wedding ring to bed at night, and remove it each morning before going downstairs for training." Her left thumb rubbed at her bare ring finger, her expression and voice softening with nostalgia, and affection. "It made me feel close to Alexei. Reminded me that there was another life outside the Red Room, and if I wanted it bad enough, I could have it. All I had to do was," one shoulder shrugged, "leave."

The lid of the ring box snapped shut. Natasha placed it back in the bigger box, took the letter from him, and dropped it inside as well. She closed the lid, returned the box to the drawer, and pushed it closed. "It was a lie, Steve. All of it. My ballet career, my marriage. Everything."

"I don't get it."

"Neither did I until Madame explained." Crossing her arms again, Natasha stood by the door, looking at the floor. "I was never a ballet star, and Alexei and I were never married. Alexei doesn't even _exist_. At least not the way I remember him. Those memories were implanted to hide the truth of my absence from the Red Room for over a year."

Steve waited her out as she bit her lower lip nervously. What had someone like Natasha, the most supremely confident woman he'd met since coming out of the ice, to be apprehensive about?

"It's coming back to me in bits and pieces. It also explains some of the dreams I've had over the years." She finally looked him in the eye. "Five months after I turned fourteen, I was taken to America, and placed in a facility."

"What sort of facility? Not a psych ward."

Her snort had a small element of humor in it. " _No_. My condition was temporary. On December thirtieth, five weeks after I turned fifteen…" she sat at the small table, crossed her ankles, and folded her hands together in her lap, "…I gave birth."

 **TBC**

The Aidi is a Moroccan dog breed used as a livestock guardian, protecting herds of sheep and goats. It also possesses hunting capabilities and good scenting ability.

 _Teper' my svobodny_ = Now we are free

 _Sestrenka_ = Little sister

 _Lyubimaya_ = Sweetheart


	30. All Alone with My Memories

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **All Alone with My Memories**

The orange and yellow door opened, and Bucky and Wanda appeared in the hallway, holding onto each other, and laughing so hard they could barely stand. They got themselves somewhat under control, but then they looked at each other, and the laughter began anew.

"Oh, my God, Bucky. I can't believe you did that." His exaggerated shrug was robbed of its power by the glint of humor in his blue eyes. "What I don't understand is how you convinced _Steve_ to go along with it."

"It was _his_ idea!" Wanda laughed again, picturing Skinny Steve, as they called the pre-serum Steve Rogers, coming up with such an epic prank. "He just needed help carrying out the plan." Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his casual slacks. "The students talked about it for _years_."

Bucky started walking and Wanda followed, going slowly, as if they had nowhere to go, and all day to get there. "Which Steve will deny, of course."

"Yeah. He's probably never told you about being sent up the river either."

"Up the… I don't understand."

Shaking his head and smiling, Bucky looked at her and back to the blank whiteness as if they were strolling through downtown Brooklyn. "Jail, doll. Little Stevie Rogers, Captain America himself, spent time in the Graybar Hotel."

Pressing her lips together to keep from laughing again, Wanda slipped her arm through Bucky's. "Do you ever get the sense that, if our lives had been different, we would be good friends?"

He looked down at her upturned face, a pleasantly surprised look in his eyes. "I thought it was just me. We've got a real thing going on here." Bucky waved both hands. "Sorta like we're brother and sister or something. Now don't get me wrong, doll. You're the cat's meow, and that's _not_ a line. When I'm with you I feel…"

"A connection that you don't have with anyone else?"

"Yeah! Not even with Stevie, and we've been best friends seems like forever. Can't remember a time we haven't known each other. But with you, I feel cozy. Comfortable, like…"

Wanda gripped his arm tighter. "…we could finish each other's sentences?"

The merest hint of a blush colored his cheeks. "Corny, isn't it?"

"Not at all. I felt the same about my brother before he died."

His expression turned sad. "Sorry."

Wanda accepted his sympathy with a smile. "Pietro was convinced that he would live forever. That despite what Dr. von Strucker and Dr. List told us, he would be able to outrun any danger. Even bullets." From the corner of her eye, she saw a narrow streak of yellow light. Now that she thought about it, she'd seen them since the first time she touched Bucky's mind.

"Somethin' wrong, doll?"

She pointed to where the sky would be if they were in the real world. "Those bits of light. What are they?"

Another one passed, the color of freshly churned butter, disappearing into the mist. "Oh, those are neurons."

"You know what neurons are?"

He tapped the side of his head. "I got the straight dope right here, doll." His left eye closed in a wink. "The neuron is a specialized cell that transmits information to other nerve cells, muscle, or gland cells. They're electrically excitable cells that process and transmit information through electrical and chemical signals. Those signals travel between neurons using synapses. That's a specialized connection with other cells. The neurons connect to each other to form our neural networks, and are the core components of the brain and spinal cord of the central nervous system."

By the end of Bucky's recitation, Wanda's mouth gaped open. She closed it with a snap, and cleared her throat. "How does a soldier know so much about the human nervous system?"

Chuckling, he looked both proud, and embarrassed, rocking back and forth on his toes. "Doll, _this_ soldier, instead of trying to find a willing woman the night before being shipped overseas, went to the Stark Expo to see them demonstrate a flying car."

"So you're _not_ just a pretty face." She smiled as another streak zipped past. "And that was…"

Yet another blip of light passed them, this one a brilliant yellow. He winked, and grinned. "…just a passing thought."

As they walked, Wanda had subtly guided Bucky to the red door with the black star. He stopped in his tracks when he saw it, the look on his face changing to a mixture of fear, and bravado, then to curiosity when a third door shimmied into place. Unlike the other two, this one was larger, black with deep purple, constantly moving, giving her the impression that what was behind it would be emotionally painful, moving over into cruelty.

"Let's not go in that one yet."

They were in agreement. "Which one, then?"

~~O~~

Of the three, Bucky would rather have his fingernails pulled out than revisit the memories behind them. However, he had to in order to break the hold HYDRA had on him. Closing his eyes, he breathed through the emotions that threatened to engulf his mind. "That one. 2R."

Wanda was a good kid. Kind, compassionate, funny, strong-willed. All the things he wanted for his own child, wherever he or she had gone. She took hold of his hand, and gently, yet firmly led him to the 2R door. In spite of its appearance of being made of steel, it opened at her touch. Unlike the other rooms where they stood by as observers within the memory, this time it was projected on a giant white wall, like being at a theater.

The air around them swirled, and theater seats appeared. Sharing a shrug, they sat down to watch the story unfold, beginning with an aerial view of a city at night. The scene zoomed in until they were focused on an imposing edifice that had few lights glowing in the windows, mostly on the lower floors. The name appeared in the bottom right corner, again as if they were seeing a movie, this one from the point of view of the protagonist. Bucky thought it safe to say that he was one of the main characters in the coming drama.

 _Krasnaya komnata_. The Red Room.

He jumped off the building onto another, shorter one, crossed to the Red Room, and climbed up to the roof. The young woman sitting in the shadows leapt to her feet, and ran into his arms. She was shorter than he, and fit just right within the circle of his embrace. Her head briefly rested on his shoulder. Then she stepped back, and took hold of his hand, leading him farther into the shadows.

She tilted her head back, the light falling only on her green eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her demeanor appeared happy, though. As the scene unfolded, she took his flesh and blood hand, and pressed it to her abdomen. And with a single whispered word, it all came back to him.

 _Detka_.

The face of the Bucky on the screen couldn't be seen, but now he remembered feeling joy, and happiness, mixed with dread because of their situation.

 _U menya svoyego rebenka, Yasha_. I'm having your baby, James.

Wanda leaned close to whisper, "Is that Natalia?"

" _Da_. She called me James, uh, Yasha." Bucky also understood the feeling of familiarity when they met again years later. He opened his mouth to say just that when Natalia moved fully into the moonlight, revealing her long red hair.

Wanda gripped his arm. " _Natasha_ is Natalia? She never mentioned having a child."

His emotions were so chaotic, so intense, that Bucky couldn't sit still. He ignored the question, got to his feet, and headed for the exit with Wanda on his heels, catching hold of his hand. The sensation of clothing rubbing on his skin made him want to scream it was so painful. And when it stopped, he was again dressed as the Winter Soldier, though Wanda didn't seem to notice. As soon as they stepped into the hallway, the black star door opened, and Bucky and Wanda were sucked inside.

In the hallway, the door slammed, and above, streaks of yellow bounced all over the sky.

 **The Residential Wing**

"Gave birth?" Steve watched Natasha with wide eyes as if he thought she were about to drop the punch line of a joke. " _You_ had a baby?"

"Not just _a_ baby, Steve. Twins."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Natasha got to her feet and went to stand in front of the mirror. Not to look at herself, but so she couldn't see Steve. "Because I didn't _remember_. The time I spent away from the Red Room was replaced by a non-existent career, a whirlwind romance, and a short-lived marriage. The graduation ceremony was performed immediately following the birth."

"Why are you telling _me_ instead of your best friend?"

"Clint's not here, and I'm tired of being alone with my memories."

She could hear Steve breathing as he processed everything she'd told him. The bed creaked, and he came to stand behind her. "Where are they now?"

" _That_ is an even longer story." Looking up at him, Natasha saw sympathy in his eyes. "They were taken away. I never got to hold or even see them." One side of her mouth turned up in a humorless half smile. "I'm sure it won't come as a surprise that Madame B. was HYDRA."

"Why is that significant?"

Turning to lean on the dresser, Natasha crossed her arms. "Because you are well-acquainted with the father."

Steve leaned back as the implication hit him. "Are you telling me that _you_ and _Bucky_ …"

"Had children together. Yes." She sat on the side of the bed, and he sat next to her.

"Tell me about them."

When she didn't immediately answer, Steve held her hand, lending her his incredible strength. "One is… he, uh, he died. Quite recently, as a matter of fact."

"And the other one? What happened to him? Do you know where he is?"

"I do." This time, Natasha's smile was genuine, and filled with pride. " _She_ became an Avenger."

 **The Cryolab**

Kaya stood next to Scott, explaining what was happening with Bucky and Wanda. He crossed his arms, and rubbed her upper lip with a finger. "And she's been in there how long?"

"This time, several hours. If she doesn't come out on her own, I will take steps to bring her around." She held up a tablet. "The first time, I made the error in judgment to allow her to return in her own time without hooking her up to an IV. She's young and strong, and while being in this state for twelve hours didn't harm her physically, it's not good for her, for _anyone_. Not even Steven. I won't make that mistake again."

"So she's okay." Scott waved a finger to indicate Wanda in the recliner. "When she's in Barnes' mind, and she's like this, is it like being in a coma?"

The doctor had seen where he was headed, and was already shaking her head. "It's similar to being in a trance. The right external stimulus would bring her out, whereas in a coma, she would not be able to directly respond to say someone holding her hand, or speaking her name." She touched his arm. "Don't worry, Mr. Lang. We're taking good care of both of them."

Scott nodded. "Alright if I stay a while?"

"Yes, of course. As long as you like. I'll have a chair brought in."

Kaya left the lab, and a few minutes later, a young man brought in a straight backed chair. He placed it next to Wanda's recliner, and left just a quietly. Scott sat down, and scooted close enough to take Wanda's hand. With the other hand, he brushed the hair from her forehead, wondering how she could've become so important to him in so short a time. And why he didn't mention her to Maggie or Cassie. Maybe he wasn't ready to make their relationship official. Whatever the reason, he would have to think long and hard about the implications of them becoming intimate before taking that road.

Sometime later, Scott had just dozed off when Wanda squeezed his hand. He sat up, thinking she was coming out of the trance, and jumped when the vital signs monitor shrieked a warning.

Within seconds, Kaya, another doctor, and several nurses were swarming around Wanda, nudging him aside to get to her. Standing at the foot of the recliner, Scott chewed on a thumbnail to keep from asking stupid questions.

Soon, the medical staff backed off, and only Kaya remained. She saw him, and nodded at the screen. Wanda's vital signed were still high. Kaya shut off the alarm. "I don't know what's happening, but her fight-or-flight response has been triggered."

Scott sighed with relief that it wasn't something worse. "I'm betting on fight. She's not one to run away."

"From what Steven has told me, and my own observations, it's a common theme among your group."

He shrugged to hide that he was cringing inside. "That's us. Earth's mightiest heroes."

Kaya smiled. "I've also noticed you respond negatively to the term hero. You don't see yourselves that way?"

"Not sure about the others, but," Scott snorted, " _I'm_ no hero. I'm just a guy who doesn't like people who prey on those who can't defend themselves just because they want to, or because they can."

"You don't like bullies. That was also Steven's motivation for agreeing to Dr. Erskine's experiment."

Though Kaya was carrying on a conversation with Scott, he could see the doctor part of her keeping one eye on the side-by-side vital signs monitor. He didn't know her well, but anyone could see that she had a strong sense of duty to those in her care. That made _her_ the hero here. "I read about Steve online. He…"

Kaya's eyes narrowed and Scott turned to see what had drawn her curiosity. Wanda's vital signs had changed again. Even he could tell that something wasn't right, especially with her EEG. It was showing a massive increase in the amount of activity.

Together, Scott and Kaya ran to Wanda's side as her respiration, pulse, and blood pressure rose to dangerous levels.

"Mr. Lang, separate them while I prepare a sedative."

Scott reached for Wanda's wrist, thankful that the panthers had been sent back to the jungle for the time being. When told that two full grown jungle cats were holding a vigil at Bucky's side, he'd almost declined to visit. Then he was told they'd been returned to the jungle.

If only someone could take a peek inside her mind so they would know for sure what was going on, and that whatever they did out here wouldn't make matters worse. But Wanda was the only telepath that Scott knew of in Wakanda.

The moment he touched Wanda, her eyes opened so wide he was surprised they didn't hurt. Or maybe they did from the look on her face. Her hands grabbed the arms of the chair to bring it into the upright position.

"Wanda? What happened in there?"

Slowly, she turned to face Scott, but didn't seem to recognize him. With her back turned, Kaya stuck the syringe filled with a strong sedative into the IV port, but before she could press the plunger, Wanda took it from her, holding it in her fist like a knife.

Scott placed himself between the two women, motioning for Kaya to back up. Over his shoulder, he whispered, "Call Steve, Natasha and Clint…"

A red mist surrounded Scott, and he was flung across the room. He rolled to lessen the impact, watching helplessly as Wanda advanced on Kaya. She snatched the syringe from her, and Kaya took the opportunity to run, but she didn't get far.

Almost casually, Wanda waved a hand, and Kaya hit the side of an unused cryotube, landing on the floor in a heap. She got to her hands and knees just as the telepath grabbed her by the throat.

~~O~~

Clint's bag hit the middle of the bed with a muffled thud. He dropped onto the side, his phone in one hand, again watching the short video that Laura had sent him of the young boy helping Lila with her shoes. Except for the hair length and color, Clint could swear it was… But that wasn't possible. He'd seen him die with his own eyes, felt for a pulse and found none, and had watched as the doctor made it official. Wanda's brother, Pietro Maximoff, was dead. In spite of Cap's orders during the battle with Ultron's murderbot army, you don't "walk off" being killed.

There had been a funeral in Clint's former home town of Waverly, Iowa. He watched as the casket was lowered into the ground, and covered with dirt. Once a month, he'd taken Wanda there to put flowers on her brother's grave.

Then there was the fact of their telepathic link. The twins had been able to "feel" each other, and it had almost killed Wanda when she felt Pietro die. How could the young man in the video be him?

Voices in the hall announced Hill and Cameron returning from one of their walks. Normally, Clint would take the opportunity to tease them, but now wasn't the time. He bolted out the door. "Klein."

"Sir?"

Resisting an eye-roll, Clint reminded him, "I work for a living, son. Don't call me sir."

"No, sir. Uh, Clint. Something I can do for you?"

Clint pulled the phone from his back pocket. "Yes. Work some of your geek-like magic on the video stored in this phone. Enhance it enough that we can clearly see all the faces."

"When do you need it?"

Alarms blared, interrupting their conversation. " _Natasha Romanoff, Captain Rogers and Clint Barton to the cryolab, stat! Natasha Romanoff, Captain Rogers and Clint Barton to the cryolab!_ "

The phone sailed through the air, and Cameron caught it without fumbling as Clint jogged down the hall. "Now!"

Clint shoved the stairwell door open, and ran down the stairs, reaching the first landing before the door had closed. He shot out on the floor where the cryolab was located, arriving at the same as Steve, Natasha, and security. "What the hell's going on, Cap?"

For a millisecond, Steve looked guilty, but for what?

"This is my fault. I asked Wanda to help Bucky get free of HYDRA's influence." Steve stopped just inside the lab doors. "Kaya!"

His friend's girlfriend was being strangled by Wanda. Clint ducked into an open office, and picked up a small, round paperweight. Hitting her from this distance wouldn't hurt much, but it would cause enough of a distraction that Steve could rescue Kaya while Clint and Natasha handled Wanda.

He cocked his arm, and threw the paperweight, not at all surprised when Wanda released Kaya, and the projectile halted just a few inches from her head. Clint sighed. He had to keep her focused on him to prevent her going after anyone else. She would be devastated if anyone had been injured because of her, provided she came out of whatever this was. He and Natasha shared a look.

Usually, Clint's best friend had a smarta$$ remark, or some witty banter to throw around to ease the tension, but not today. Natasha stood at his side, hands clenched at her sides, and her eyes wide, and this was the strange part, filled with fear.

"Hand-to-hand it is."

~~O~~

By the time Steve reached Kaya's side, Scott had gotten her on her feet, and was leading her toward security. She was limping, but when Steve tried to pick her up, she shook her head and pushed his hands away. "I'm fine. Go deal with your friend. She doesn't know what she's doing."

Scott nodded, indicating he'd take care of Kaya, leaving Steve free to stop Wanda from hurting anyone else. He circled around in front where she could see him. "Wanda, you have to stop what you're doing. People are gonna get hurt."

He felt low for playing on her sympathy, but it was the only card they had. The almost feral gleam in her eyes reminded Steve of the day Bucky had gone on his rampage through the UN building in Berlin. Clint and Bucky had been brought back in the same way. Natasha called it cognitive recalibration. He couldn't throw Wanda off the roof of a tall building. There had to be another way. Though it sickened him to do it, he had to get close enough to hit her.

Steve made it to within ten feet of Wanda only to be stopped in his tracks as a dozen scalpels and other sharp medical instruments stopped just inches from his face.

~~O~~

As Steve sidestepped the floating medical instruments, Natasha pushed through the inertia that hit her when she saw Wanda attacking Kaya. Clint was circling around to get behind her, and do what? A humorless snort came out. He planned on hitting her in the head. Not that he wanted to, none of them did, but that might be the only way to stop the young woman.

If so, then it was _her_ job. Not Clint's, who mentored her after Ultron, and not Steve's, the man they all looked up to as their leader. _Hers_.

While Steve kept Wanda's attention by talking to her, Natasha made her way around to where Clint was strategizing with himself on how to get to the girl before she did to him what she'd done to Vision. Natasha clamped a hand on his arm, halting his plan before it even got started.

"Nat, what're you doing? She has to be stopped."

"I'll do it."

Clint got that funny little crinkle over his nose that told her he wouldn't give in without a fight. "How is it _your_ job, Nat? We're a team, remember?"

"Always. But it's still my job." Natasha slanted a glance over to Wanda, and back, letting her eyes meet Clint's so he would know she was dead serious. "I'm her mother."

 **TBC**


	31. Wondering, Fearing, Doubting, Dreaming

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 _Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before_. ~ Edgar Allan Poe

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Wondering, Fearing, Doubting, Dreaming**

 **The Cryolab**

Inside the black star room, as Bucky was calling this place, he and Wanda found themselves facing a row of jail cells. Inside each one was a snarling, growling creature fighting to get out. They all had faces with razor sharp teeth, like rabid wolves, their jaws snapping, and drool dripping onto the ground as they desperately tried to squeeze between bars that were too close together.

Several of the creatures paced in the confines of their cells. When they turned to the side, their bodies were covered in fur, and shaped like words. Bucky recognized them as those that would trigger him as the Winter Soldier. Involuntarily, he took a step back, afraid, not only for himself, but for Wanda, and the people outside who would suffer, if he went on another rampage.

Wanda slipped her hand into his. "Do not worry, Bucky. As long as they stay locked up, you will be fine."

"That's just it, doll. They _won't_. Whoever has the book is in control. _They_ have the key." Several of the creatures threw themselves at the bars over and over again, rattling the locks, and startling Wanda. Bucky moved in between her and the cells.

"What would happen if _you_ said the words, Bucky?"

That thought hadn't crossed his mind. "Don't know, and not anxious to experiment."

"If _I_ said the words, and told you to no longer be the Winter Soldier, to go back to being Bucky, what would happen?"

Again, it hadn't occurred to him. "No idea. And no, I don't want you to try."

"Wasn't going to. There has to be another way…"

The rage of the word creatures increased. Something was angering them. The pair took a step back as several of the cage locks loosened, threatening to let them free. Bucky stayed in front of Wanda, and she gripped his arm tighter as the word creatures clung to the bars, shaking them even harder. "You should go, before you get hurt."

She shook her head. "I'm with _you_ , Bucky. To the end, whatever happens."

Bucky grinned over his shoulder, their eyes meeting. He winked. "Damn! You're my kind of woman, doll."

Without warning, the cells burst open, releasing the creatures. Wanda backed up, pulling Bucky with her until they could go no further. He heard her trying the door, but it wouldn't open.

The first word, _sil'noe zhelaniye_ , moved out in front of the others, head low, and teeth bared, growling deep in its throat.

The fear that Bucky had tried to keep hidden surged upward to an almost unbearable level. He stumbled back a step as the word creatures sorted themselves out until they were in order. _Sil'noe zhelaniye_ crouched on its haunches, and leaped into the air.

Bucky braced himself for the coming onslaught, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see himself hurting Wanda when he became the Winter Soldier again. A second later, he found himself on the floor. He looked up, and saw Wanda holding her arms out, red mist flowing from her fingertips, creating a barrier between them and the creatures. But it didn't last. The word creatures were relentless, battering themselves against her mind shield, until they broke through.

Wanda's shield dropped, and the creatures jumped at her, disappearing into her chest one at a time, in order, and Bucky could do nothing to stop them.

 _Sil'noe zhelaniye_ … _Rzhavet_ … _Semnadtsat'_ … _Rassvet_ … _Pech'_ … _Devyat_ … _Dobrokachestvennaya_ … _Vozvrashcheniye Domoy_ … _Odin_ …

The final word seemed to want to prolong the fear, and helplessness. It crouched down on its haunches, threw its head back and howled then leapt at Wanda. And like its predecessors, vanished into her chest.

 _Gruzovoy avtomobil'_

The sudden cessation of sound hurt Bucky's eardrums. Wanda stood in front of him, both arms out to the side, her shoulders shaking with her harsh breathing. He slowly got to his feet, and reached out to touch her shoulder, stumbling backward when she whirled around. Her eyes had gone wide, and were filled with a blankness that was at odds with what he knew about her.

Again, the red mist formed over her hands as Wanda came toward him. Bucky backed up, stopped by the door they'd come through that now wouldn't open for him. A wall of red grew between her hands, and Bucky stood his ground. She drew her arms back and forward in a pushing motion.

Then, something even stranger happened. A split second before the wall of red hit him, it, and Wanda, vanished.

~~O~~

Kaya tried unsuccessfully to get her fingers between Wanda's hand and her throat so she could take a breath. From where Scott landed, he could see the expression on the young woman's face. And though he knew better, whatever had happened while in Bucky's mind, she seemed to be getting pleasure from watching the other woman's struggles.

Wanda's attention was diverted, and she released Kaya. Steve joined them, and Kaya sent him away with just a few words. After Scott turned Kaya over to security who would take her out of harm's way, he worked out a plan that had no hope of working. Focusing on Clint, Steve, and Natasha, he waited for a signal, something to tell him how to proceed.

Inspiration came from the filled syringe lying near the recliner. As she turned to keep Steve in her sights, waving her arms to fling a variety of small, and not so small, objects at him, Scott darted in, dropped onto his side, and slid across the floor. His hand closed around the syringe as he passed. Rolling to his feet, he kept going toward Wanda, who was now headed for the exit. He held the syringe in his left hand, plunged the needle into Wanda's right thigh, and pressed the plunger with his thumb, injecting her with the sedative.

It didn't even slow her down. If he had to guess, she had to be running on pure adrenaline, and would likely sleep for a day or so afterward.

Wanda swung around, gritting her teeth, and glaring. She pulled the syringe from her thigh and tossed it aside. Without a word, red mist shot from her hands, and Scott felt himself rising toward the ceiling. "Wanda! Stop! It's me, Scott."

She flung him through the air, and Scott knew he wouldn't get off with just a few bruises this time. He saw a black blur in his peripheral vision. The blur jumped into the air, grabbed him around the chest, and together, they fell to the floor, rolling several times, knocking over equipment tables, and carts in a clatter of metal, and plastic.

Panting, Scott rolled onto his knees, and stood, Steve coming up next to him. "Thanks, man." He pointed his chin at Clint and Natasha slowly working their way closer to Wanda. "They have a plan?"

"Maybe. When I asked Wanda to help Bucky, I had no idea this would happen, Scott."

"No one's blaming you."

Steve tugged his black long sleeved t-shirt back into place. "This is just what happened to Bucky in Berlin."

"How'd you get him back?"

One side of Steve's mouth turned up in a smile. "Dropped his helicopter into the river."

Rubbing the back of his head, Scott let his breath out. "Let's not do that."

Security spread out to surround Wanda. Steve caught the eye of the leader, and signaled for them to back off. Reluctantly, they did so.

Apparently done toying with them, Wanda levitated up to the ceiling, her eyes darting here and there, as if looking for escape. With her powers, that wouldn't be a problem. Scott guessed that her core personality still had a small measure of control, or she would be gone by now. Finally, something that worked in their favor.

"Talk to her, Scott."

"Me?"

Steve's eyes found Natasha's, and a silent accord seemed to have been reached. "You and she have a relationship."

"Yeah, but…"

"There are factors I can't go into just yet. What we need is someone she feels affection for to keep her busy until we can work out the next step."

Scott saw the sense in Steve's plan. "Which is?"

One side of the super-soldier's mouth turned upward. "Being made up as we go."

Pushing a hand through his hair, Scott searched for a safe topic, one that would get and keep Wanda's attention. He hadn't gone more than a few steps when he saw Clint running toward him though his eyes were on Wanda. The young woman floated down from the ceiling, angling toward the window. She flicked her hands, and the windows and walls shattered, scattering most of the security force, and knocking Clint off his feet.

As she went through the hole she just made, Scott ran after her, scared that she'd leave and he'd never see her again. Avoiding the glass, he called out, "Wanda! Don't go!" She halted in mid-air, and turned to face him, not more than ten feet away. In desperation, he pulled out one of the few Russian words he knew. "Please, _lyubimaya_."

At the term of endearment, Wanda's expression showed confusion, but only for a moment. Red mist formed around her hands in warning. But he stood his ground, pleading, "Please stay."

~~O~~

Until now, Natasha had been merely an observer, which wasn't like her at all. She was very hands-on, no matter what the situation. Running toward the shattered window, she called out, "Steve!"

He nodded, and ran to the window. Scott spun out of the way as Natasha used Steve's bent knee as a launching pad, and he provided her with a hard boost. Before Wanda could defend herself, Natasha had wrapped herself around her, ankles hooked behind her knees.

At first, Wanda tried pushing her away. The women grappled, spinning around, and dipping toward the ground. At the last moment, Wanda sent them higher, making it obvious that she planned on dropping Natasha from a height guaranteed to kill her.

Putting her mouth close to Wanda's ear, Natasha whispered, " _Pozhaluysta ostanovis'_ _,_ _moy rebenok._ _Y_ _a tebya lyublyu_ _._ "

~~O~~

Clint quickly regained his feet, running after Natasha, skidding to a stop between Steve and Scott. They watched as Wanda and Natasha continued out over the expanse of jungle adjacent to the clinic.

In his head, he again heard the words, "I'm her mother", wondering how that could be possible. If it was true, who was the father, and why hadn't Natasha told him before now? His curiosity would have to go unsatisfied as Steve jumped out the window, and ran into the jungle.

Clint slapped Scott on the shoulder. "Let's go, Lang."

"Go?"

"After them." Scott stared at him as if he were nuts. "You want your girl back, don't you?" Mutely, Scott nodded. "Then let's hustle."

By the time they reached the jungle's edge, Steve was no longer in sight. Not that Clint expected he would be. The men entered the jungle, and stopped to listen for voices, fighting, anything that would tell them where their friends were.

Scott tapped Clint on the shoulder, and waved for him to follow. Soon, Clint could hear it too. Natasha and Steve were coming toward them. They met in a clearing, Steve carrying the unconscious Wanda.

Her expression unreadable, Natasha cautioned, "We have to lock her up, at least until we know if she's herself again."

None of them liked the idea of putting Wanda in prison again, but she was right. Glancing at Scott from the corner of his eye, Clint gauged the other man's reaction to this new situation, and came to the conclusion that Scott was falling for Wanda, and hadn't realized it yet, or had, and was fighting it.

~~O~~

Unwilling to make what might be considered incriminating statements regarding his relationship with Wanda, Scott stayed at Steve's side. Her face was covered by her long hair, sticking to the perspiration. Natasha kept pace on Steve's other side, not saying a word, confusing Scott with her new interest in the girl, giving him the idea that something was going on that he knew nothing about.

T'Challa met them in the lobby. "I'm told that you and your people have been causing quite a bit of trouble."

"Sorry, your highness. I promise we'll find some way to repay your kindness."

The monarch waved a hand. "That is not necessary, Captain Rogers. However, you and your team are welcome to assist in the repairs to the clinic."

Clint stepped forward. "That's me, your majesty. I'm a contractor."

Not to be left out, Scott held up a hand. "I can swing a hammer, sir."

Sam came from the stairs, rubbing the back of his neck and yawning. He took in the faces of his friends, confused. "What'd I miss?"

Only T'Challa laughed. "That is a quite a tale, Mr. Wilson. One I will leave to your friends to tell." With a glimmer of humor in his dark eyes, he added, "I will be out of the country for several weeks. Please try not to burn anything down while I am gone."

Natasha smiled while brushing the hair from Wanda's face. "Do our best, your highness."

T'Challa motioned for the group to follow him. "I've had security prepare one of the isolation units used to house dangerous criminals in need of medical care." He slanted a look at Steve. "It has not been used in many years. Hopefully, it will contain Ms. Maximoff as long as needed to ascertain her fitness."

Sam, who still looked confused, came up beside Scott. "What's up, tic-tac?"

The lift doors opened, and the group got on, Clint and Sam staying behind. "Later, Sam." Scott nodded his thanks to Clint. The archer had apparently changed his tune regarding his relationship with Wanda. And in that single glance, the men finally came to an understanding. The doors closed, and opened again on an unfamiliar floor. "Where are we? Feels like we're underground."

"And so we are, Mr. Lang." Ahead was a heavy steel door with multiple locks, and a heavily armed man inside a bullet-proof cubicle. At T'Challa's nod, the man opened the door, and another guard ushered them in.

Steve went into the only open cell, and lay Wanda on the bed. When he came out, Scott went in. "I'll stay with her until she wakes up."

"If that is your wish, Mr. Lang."

Natasha didn't follow the others to the exit. "I'm staying too."

The door closed, locking Scott and Natasha in with Wanda. He drew a chair up next to the bed, and Natasha claimed the seat. She picked up Wanda's hand from where it lay on her stomach, and held it. The other hand again brushed at the hairs stuck to her face. " _Angel moy_."

"What did you say?"

She answered without taking her eyes off of Wanda's face. "A term of endearment. My angel."

"I didn't know you and Wanda were that close."

Even with her red hair falling forward, Scott could see her smile. "We aren't. But we will be." She looked him in the eyes, all seriousness. "She's my daughter."

 **The Cryolab**

Alone in the black star room, Bucky wondered what was happening with Wanda out in the real world, and if she'd ever come back. He counted on her presence as he walked through his memories, drawing ever closer to those that had been hidden from him.

He tried the door again, and this time, it opened, letting him leave. All that remained was the black and purple door, second only to the black star room as the one he most wanted to avoid. Without knowing if or when Wanda would return, he came to the decision to continue on his own.

"Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven."

Taking a deep breath, Bucky grasped the doorknob, and pushed the door open. As before, he was engulfed in light, and found himself inside another memory. Some of those he and Wanda traveled through had come back to him once he was reminded. But this one didn't ring any bells.

He was standing outside in the snow, looking through a window into a hospital room. A young woman lay on the bed with her knees up and spread wide, and a sheet draped over her. One nurse mopped the brow of the young woman as she moaned in pain. Another nurse stood next to the doctor holding a blanket.

The cry of a newborn pierced the air as the doctor lay the child in the hands of the nurse. He clamped the umbilical cord, and snipped just above. The nurse carried the child away, and returned with a fresh blanket in time to receive a second newborn. He performed the clamp and snip of the umbilical cord, and returned his attention to the young woman.

She pushed up onto her elbows, equally scared and enraged. "I want to see! No! Where are you going? Come back! Don't go!"

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. The doctor spoke to the nurses, removed his gloves, and left the room. One of the nurses stuck a syringe into the IV, and soon, the young woman's cries faded to whimpers. Eventually, those stopped as well.

Uncertain why this memory had been hidden, Bucky shook his head, and turned toward the exit. He was brought up short when a man appeared before him, blocking the way. The expression on his face was not pleasant. He wore a red beret, and a camouflage uniform. The collar of a white turtleneck stuck out of the jacket. In his right hand, he held a faded red book with a black star on the front. Knowing what was inside, Bucky backed away, but the man followed him, grinning nastily. "You know who I am. Good."

Bucky dredged a name from the depths of his memories. "Karpov. You were responsible for the Winter Soldier program. Each time I was taken out of cryo, you were there."

The smile on Karpov's face did nothing to dispel Bucky's unease.

" _Da_."

"Why are you here?"

Karpov pointed to the window, urging Bucky closer. "See the young woman? She has just given birth to twins, a boy and a girl." When Bucky didn't comment, Karpov continued, still with that same sickening smile that broadcast his pleasure at torturing others. "Her name is Natalia, and the children are yours."

Stunned, though he'd suspected what Karpov would say, Bucky shook his head. "I… I remember her, everything. Sitting in the moonlight, making love with her on the rooftop. And the last time I saw her…"

"She told you she was having your baby." Karpov stood behind Bucky, whispering in his ear. "Everything you and she had together was a _lie_ , Asset. You thought that you were fooling us, keeping your relationship with Natalia a secret, when nothing could be farther from the truth." He moved to the other side. "It was all a HYDRA experiment, an attempt to create a new generation of Inhumans by mating two enhanced individuals. Unfortunately, it did not work out as we expected."

To keep him talking, Bucky said nothing.

"The children were kept in a laboratory the first two years of life, going through rigorous testing. In that time, they experienced accelerated physical, and mental maturity so that by the end of their second year, they appeared to be aged five. They did display latent powers, but at a level much lower than we hoped. For the experiment to show the results we wanted, they were adopted by a childless couple in Sokovia. The parents died a few years later, and we lost track of the children." Karpov's voice took on an unpleasant growl. "So you see, everything you had with Natalia, the emotions you experienced, they were dictated by myself and my partner in this charade, Olga Belova, known to the girls at the Red Room as Madame B."

Bucky's hands clenched at his sides as the memories of his time with Natalia exploded in his brain. What Karpov was saying couldn't be true. Their feelings for each other had been genuine. He cared deeply for the young woman he knew as Natalia. She called him Yasha, Russian for James. Their last time together, she'd expressed her love, and told him of the new life growing within her that they'd created together.

"We simply made the memories inaccessible to you. For Natalia, she was given a career in ballet, and a short-lived marriage to account for her time away from the Red Room."

Karpov had stood next to him in the snow, telling him that everything he felt and experienced had been a lie, just as he was now. With a roar, Bucky swung his fists at Karpov's face, wanting nothing more than for the man to die at his hand for the things he'd done.

Karpov's form shimmied out of existence along with the building and surrounding landscape, replaced by the swirling white mist. And when it cleared, he was standing in the living room of an apartment. Before him was a family of four. The mother called out to the children, giving them the task of setting the table.

Soon, the family was sitting down to dinner, talking, and laughing together. He could feel the love they had for each other, and it made him angry once more that he'd been denied the same for himself.

And still, Karpov was there, whispering vileness into Bucky's ear.

"These are _your_ children, Asset. Living a life that can never be yours. Though not for much longer."

"What do you mean?"

Karpov nodded, and moments later, the loving family had been destroyed when the country's enemies shelled the city. The floor gave way, and when the dust cleared, no one was left.

Devastated, Bucky turned to confront Karpov, but he was gone. In front of him was the black and purple door again, only now its colors were streaked with red. He had to get out of here, get back to Natalia so they could share the grief over the death of their children. But for that, he needed Wanda.

Bucky closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was standing in the hallway outside the three rooms. He pushed a hand through his long hair, and sighed. Now that he'd calmed somewhat, he remembered part of the conversation between the family, particularly the names the mother had called the children: Wanda and Pietro.

The names couldn't be a coincidence. _Was_ Wanda his daughter? If so, that would explain the incredible connection they felt. And why he and Natasha had fallen for each other so quickly. Because they were already in love.

 **The Isolation Cell**

The first sensation that Wanda felt was softness underneath her. The bed shifted, and her right hand was enveloped in warmth. She brought her left hand up to her forehead, rubbing to ease the massive headache.

"Wanda?"

Scott's voice instantly made her feel better. Her eyes fluttered open, and there he was, sitting on the side of the bed, and his free hand pressing into the mattress next to her left hip. She felt a light touch on her cheek as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Scott."

He helped her sit up, leaving his free hand resting on her hip. "How you feeling?"

"Like crap. What happened?"

One side of his mouth turned up. "Common opinion is that you were somehow affected by Bucky's trigger words."

Confused, she searched her memory. The last thing she remembered was being in the Winter Soldier room in Bucky's mind. The words were represented in his mind as feral creatures locked in jail cells, or cages of some kind. "Yes. We were working on a plan to stop them when they got out, and attacked Bucky. I… I created a shield to protect him, and that's all I remember." She looked out, just now realizing she was locked up. "What did I do?"

"Uh…"

It was apparent that Scott didn't want to tell her the truth. Wanda touched his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "Tell me."

Reluctantly, Scott nodded. "You tried to kill Kaya, Steve, me, and Clint. After you blasted a hole in the side of the lab, you flew off with Natasha. Steve, Clint and I found the two of you in the jungle; We put you in here just in case whatever it was hadn't gone away."

Dread clenched her stomach. "Was Natasha hurt?"

"No. Just a few bumps and bruises. She was here for a while then went to check on Bucky." He looked away, not letting his eyes meet hers.

"There's more, isn't there?"

Scoot took a deep breath, and let it out. "Yes. But…"

The door opened, and Natasha came in, with Clint bringing up the rear. He leaned down to give her kiss on the cheek, and over his shoulder, Wanda saw a look pass between Scott and Natasha. "There's something you're not telling me. What is it?"

Natasha moved closer, and Scott gave her the chair. "Since your episode, Bucky's vitals have been erratic. Up one moment, and down the next. There's been a massive increase in the amount of brain activity." Natasha took her hand, and something about the touch was different, gentler, almost affectionate. "After what you've been through, we can't ask you…"

"I _must_ go back. I'm his only chance to break free of HYDRA's hold." She went over everything that had happened while she was in touch with Bucky's mind, and came up with an idea. Her fingers clamped around Natasha's wrist, her voice urgent. "I now know how to help him."

 **TBC**

 _Sil'noe zhelaniye_ = Longing

 _Rzhavet_ = Rusted

 _Semnadtsat'_ =Seventeen

 _Rassvet_ = Daybreak

 _Pech'_ =Furnace

 _Devyat_ = Nine

 _Dobrokachestvennaya_ = Benign

 _Vozvrashcheniye Domoy_ = Homecoming

 _Odin_ = One

 _Gruzovoy avtomobil'_ =Freight Car

 _Pozhaluysta ostanovis'_ _,_ _moy rebenok._ _Y_ _a tebya lyublyu_ _._ = Please stop, my child. I love you.

 _Angel moy_ = My angel

Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.

~ William Shakespeare


	32. Worth Waiting For

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Worth Waiting For**

With no one on whom to vent his anger and frustration, Bucky stood in the hallway, pacing, and nervously pushing a hand through his hair. The doors around him moved, not much, but enough to be noticed. Curious, he turned in a circle. A little at a time, the doors moved faster and faster, until they were nothing but a greyish streak. He realized some time ago that what happened here was partially controlled by the area of his brain still active while he was in cryo. It hadn't been the same as when he'd been a prisoner of HYDRA. Then, he experienced no passage of time, though when he was awakened, he was cognizant that months, even years had passed since the last time he'd been taken out.

The doors slowed, and came to a stop. The one in front of him had the look of a flag. Blue down the left third, red on the right, and white through the middle with a golden eagle crest wearing a crown. Unlike some of the memories, this one, Bucky remembered all too clearly. He did _not_ want to revisit the events. He also didn't want to just sit and wait for Wanda to come back.

Shrugging, Bucky opened the door, and found himself in the middle of a floating city. Much of it had been turned to rubble. In the sky, and on the ground, a robot army made its way through the city killing people as they went. Mixed in with these machines, he saw Steve, Natasha, Clint, and four others. A man in a red and gold suit blasting the robots from the sky, another man, big and heavily muscled, wearing a red cape, and swinging an enormous hammer, yet another man with purple skin, and a glowing gem in his forehead. And there in the middle, was a giant green man, roaring and screaming as he crushed, and shattered the robot army.

Running up and down the streets, Bucky found himself methodically destroying about twenty of the robots. Another jumped on the memory Bucky's back, and got a fist through the chest for his audacity. That Bucky pressed his back against the only wall left standing that had once been a bakery. He peeked around the corner, seeing Steve and Natasha standing near the edge as if contemplating the vastness of the universe, and their insignificance.

This memory had happened before their encounter in Bucharest, and he recalled thinking that she looked familiar.

As they filled up, the lifeboats returned to the helicarrier, and came back for more. Up ahead, Bucky saw Clint urging people to hurry before going aboard himself. A woman cried out that her son was missing. Clint ran to get the boy just as the Ultron Prime robot made a strafing run at them.

The Bucky in his memory had started to go to their aid, but was knocked to the ground by an invisible force, or so he thought at the time.

Seeing the scene from an observer's point of view showed him the truth. He'd been knocked down by a silver-haired young man who could move at incredible speeds. He saved Clint and the boy, but hadn't been fast enough to outrun bullets.

 _You didn't see that coming_.

The boy's legs gave out, and he lay dead on the ground. Moments later, Bucky remembered he'd been knocked on his ass by… something. At the time, he hadn't thought much about it. Keeping his face hidden, he'd jumped on one of the lifeboats as it was pulling away from the edge, and crouched by the door between two set of seats.

Now Bucky knew the phenomenon for what it was: Wanda's reaction to experiencing her brother's death.

The mind Bucky ran and jumped on the lifeboat where Clint had lain the dead boy's body, crouching next to him. Someone, probably Clint, had closed his eyes, and Bucky silently thanked him for the courtesy.

Bucky reached out to touch the boy's cheek, but because he wasn't actually there, he couldn't feel it. Tears stung the back of his eyes, and he blinked to clear his vision. "Pietro, my son. I'm so sorry your mother and I didn't know you and your sister while you were growing up. Forgive me. Forgive _us._ "

 **Wanda's Room**

Standing with all her weight on one foot, the opposite hip thrust out to the side, and arms crossed, Wanda looked from one face to the other. "Well? Say something."

Clearing his throat, Steve asserted himself as their leader, but it was Clint who asked, "Seriously?"

" _Why_ would you think otherwise? I want to help Bucky, and this is the best way to do it."

Natasha looked over her shoulder, and took a step forward. "You've been inside Bucky's mind every day for a week. Why now?"

There was something different in the way Natasha looked at her, and Wanda realized that it had been like that for a few days. Dismissing it as unimportant, she sighed, and dropped her defensive posture. "I finally figured out that Bucky and I must present a more united front. And the only way to do that is for us to… the best way to describe it is that we both have to be in the same physical state."

Scott cleared his throat. "So _you_ need to be frozen too?"

"Yes. I have spoken to Kaya, and she is agreeable." They all started talking at once. Wanda slashed a hand through the air. "There is _no_ discussion. I am of legal age, even in Wakanda, and it's _my_ decision."

Sam, Hill and Cameron were there as well, but wisely didn't express their opinions, and Wanda gave them a smile of thanks.

"I'm sure we all agree that the sooner done, the better. So here is what we're going to do…"

~~O~~

Wanda's friends and teammates filed out of her room, not happy with the turn of events though they couldn't do anything to stop her. As he passed, she took Scott's hand. "Please stay for a moment."

At the door, Natasha looked like she wanted to say something then she was gone.

Scott touched her cheek. "Is something wrong?"

"Not really. Whenever Natasha is near, I get this feeling I can't describe."

He enfolded her in his arms, holding her against his chest. "She's just concerned about you and Bucky. Wants it to be over."

"It will be soon. I've been thinking about how to take the trigger words from his mind, and believe I've come up with a solution."

Moving back, Scott held her hand again, sat on the foot of the bed, and pulled her onto his lap. "I'm sure it's a brilliant plan."

One shoulder shrugged. "I don't know about brilliant. Not even sure it will work. In his mind, the words are wild animals whose bodies are shaped like the words. I believe that, if he can 'kill' them, he will be free. But the only way to know if it worked is for someone to recite them once he's out of cryo."

"I'll cross my fingers, and say a prayer."

She looked down, and back up, letting their eyes meet. "Scott, if anything happens to me while I'm in there I've left letters for everyone, including Bucky. Would you make sure they get them?"

His eyes filled with unease, and his hold tightened around her waist. "Wanda…"

"Promise me."

~~O~~

Scott wanted to leave, to forget what Wanda was about to do. To take her to a place where they could be together, just the two of them, and Cassie. But she had such a strong sense of duty that rivaled her kindness and compassion he knew she wouldn't go, even if there were such a place. Reluctantly, he murmured, "I promise." He brushed the hair from her forehead. "Wanda…"

"What is it? You can tell me anything, _dorogaya moya_."

While he was reluctant to say what he was feeling, Scott also thought it might give her added incentive to come back. "Before you do this, I want to say…" he couldn't, not yet, "…you're worth waiting for, so please come back to me."

Wanda leaned back, and a smile lit up her features. She threw her arms around him so hard, they fell over onto the bed, with her sprawled on top of him. Pressing her palms to the sides of his head, she kissed him all over his face, ending with the lips, all while wiggling her slim body against his, with a predictable result. And when she noticed, the kiss changed, became softer yet more urgent at the same time, making Scott feel like he was drowning in sensation. And as difficult as it was to stop, he backed off, and stood up. Brushing a hand through his hair, he sighed, pulled her up next to him, and walked her to the clinic.

~~O~~

With Steve's help, several maintenance workers moved Bucky's cryochamber into an isolation room. Once it was hooked up to the room's self-contained electrical and environmental controls, they tested its systems for malfunctions, and pronounced it ready.

Kaya had already taken the precaution of setting the thermostat as low as it would go to prevent Bucky from being awakened prematurely. To keep from raising the temperature of the room, she asked that only herself and Wanda enter. The rest could watch on the monitor in Kaya's office. Clint complained that it was too small, and Hill argued with Sam over who got to stand where. They got on Steve's nerves until he couldn't take it anymore. The ones who had the greatest stake in the lives of Wanda and Bucky would stay, and the rest would wait for word on their progress.

Hill didn't like it, making her displeasure known by glaring a hole in Steve's back where he stood in the doorway. It didn't last long. She grabbed Cameron's hand and dragged him toward the lifts. As they went into the left, Cameron pulled free, and put his arm around her shoulders. Steve's jaw almost hit the floor when Hill's hand slide down to give the tech's butt a squeeze. Then the doors closed, and they were gone.

Sam waited for Steve, and together they went into town to eat at one of the small cafés near the market.

Resisting all of Sam's attempts at conversation got Steve nowhere.

Steve reached for the pitcher to pour himself another beer, and was stopped by Sam. "Come on, Cap. Out with it. What's goin' on that no one's talkin' about?"

"It's not for me to…"

"Look, if something's got the team all bent, I need to know about it. How else are we gonna protect each other, if we don't have all the facts?"

Sam was right, and Steve knew it. But the information he wanted belonged to Natasha, and no one else. It was for her to say who was told, and who was left in the dark. "Fine. If the major player gives me permission, I'll let you into the loop."

He took out his phone, and sent a text to Natasha. Her reply came within seconds. One word: _Da_.

"I've been given the go-ahead to bring everyone in." Steve drained the beer from his glass, topped off his and Sam's glasses. They drained those too, and signaled for the server.

Back at the compound, Steve led the way to Cameron's room. His hand was raised to knock when they heard feminine laughter mixed with the deeper tones of a male. The two men shared a puzzled stare, and Steve announced them to the occupants by knocking. The door was yanked open from the inside, and what they saw turned their puzzlement into shock.

Hill's hair was in disarray, as were her clothes. A grin wouldn't stay down as she waited for them to state their business, but all Steve could say was, "Um…"

Over her shoulder, Hill called out, "It's Steve and Sam."

" _Let them in, please._ "

She stood back, and invited them in with a flourish. Cameron stood up, and Steve couldn't help noticing that his clothes and hair were disheveled too. In fact, the tail of his t-shirt was hanging out of his pants in a way that left no doubt that he hadn't done it himself.

"Sorry to barge in…" Steve's voice trailed off when he saw that Cameron had tapped into the video feed for the isolation room where Bucky was now being kept. "Cam…"

Hill interrupted, " _I_ gave the order…"

Cam pointed a finger in the air for emphasis. "…which I am _not_ obliged to obey. And considering it was _my_ idea, I should be the one who is reprimanded."

Steve waved a hand. "No one's getting reprimanded here. I…" Sam nudged his shoulder, and pointed at the monitor.

Wanda sat in the recliner, an IV in the back of her left hand. The same concoction that had been given to Bucky was now being given to the young woman. He hadn't understood everything Kaya told him about the process, just that the fluids in the IV helped prepare the body to be frozen, and would keep ice crystals from forming in their tissues.

There was no audio, so they didn't know what Kaya and Wanda were saying. The young woman nodded, and relaxed in the chair with her eyes closed. Like Bucky, Wanda wore white scrubs that were specifically designed for the cryochamber.

Sam made himself comfortable on the side of the bed, leaving the single chair for Steve. "What's the big secret, Cap?"

"What I'm about to say doesn't go beyond our group." Steve received nods of agreement. "Information has come to light that changes the dynamic of the team."

Leaning back on his elbow, Sam snorted. "The Accords already did that."

Steve propped his right ankle on the left knee. "For want of a better word, that's professional. This is personal, and involves, well, all of us to some degree."

There was plenty of room for Hill to sit on the bed with Sam, but she chose to sit in Cameron's lap instead. The tech held her with both arms around the waist, and her arm draped over his shoulders, fingers playing with the hairs on his nape. "Don't keep us in suspense, Steve. What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, Steve told them about the newly discovered relationship between Bucky, Natasha, Wanda… and Pietro.

~~O~~

The nurse logged Wanda's vital signs, and left the room. Kaya came in a short time later. "Ready, Wanda?"

"Yes, I am." She put the footrest down, and held still while Kaya removed the IV. The tubing was hung over the bar, and Wanda took the doctor's hand. "I have the utmost faith in you, Kaya."

Kaya smiled gently. "I have no experience with your type of power. How likely is it that one or both of you would sustain a permanent injury?"

"Unknown. As far as I know, no one has ever attempted linking with another's mind while both are frozen." She gripped her hand tighter. "I'm afraid I told a small fib to my friends."

"I'm sure they will forgive you, child. In the eventuality that you are harmed, you will be moved to a separate cryochamber."

Wanda pursed her lips to keep from smiling, though some of it still came through. "That would be appreciated. I don't relish sharing one for all eternity. A girl has to have her privacy, after all."

She stood, and took a deep breath while Kaya opened Bucky's cryochamber. It would be a tight fit, but there was room inside for both of them. Wanda stepped onto the platform, placing her feet in front and back of Bucky's, and both arms around his neck. To anyone watching, she was certain it would look quite suspicious. But she couldn't wait for the clinic to prepare another cryochamber, as well as construct the necessary adaptations for her to be able to be this close to him.

Kaya poised her hand over the controls. Wanda nodded and laid her head on Bucky's shoulder. The tube slid down over them, and soon, the air was filled with white condensation. She became drowsy, unable to keep her eyes open. Giving herself over to the sedative, Wanda breathed in the icy air, and passed into a coma-like state.

As before, she appeared in the hallway surrounded by doors. Up ahead, Bucky waited patiently for her return. "Bucky?"

He turned at the sound of her voice, and rushed to her side, gathering her into a hug. "I thought you'd been hurt."

"I'm fine. No real harm done." Wanda pushed out of his arms so she could see his face. Before, he'd looked at her as if she were a younger sister. Now, he framed her face with his big hands, and his eyes seemed to be searching for something. "What's wrong?"

He chuckled and stepped back. "Nothing. I just noticed what a beautiful young woman you are."

With a wry twist to her lips, Wanda took him by the arm, and started walking. "I must be losing my touch, if it took you this long."

"Oh, I noticed, believe me. But now, it's different."

"Different how?"

They stopped walking, and Bucky's sad smile worried her. "Let's talk about it later, okay?" He indicated the door they were standing near. It was old, made of wood, and well-worn. The date was several weeks before Steve crashed into the North Atlantic. "How about a little fun before we get down to business, doll?"

"Fun sounds good." Bucky opened the door, and ushered her inside. They appeared in an old pub, filled with civilians and service men from several different countries. To their left, the biggest table was occupied by a motley assortment of men. "Oh, my God. This is fantastic! The Howling Commandoes, and they look just like their replicas in the museum." She rushed forward to walk around the table, basking in the greatness of the elite squad. Leaning between two men, she watched one man consume an entire tankard of beer in one long drink. "DumDum Dugan. That hat is ridiculous."

Bucky stood on the opposite side of the table, hands clasped in front of him, rocking on his toes. The moment they stepped into the memory, his appearance had changed back to the Bucky from WWII. His khaki green uniform had obviously begun the day crisply ironed. Now, late at night, it hung on him like a wilted flower. Jazzy music played, and couples danced in the small open area toward the back.

Wanda moved around the table, stopping to look at each man's face. "Why are we here?"

"Thought you might like to meet Steve's first lady friend." He turned to the door just as an attractive brunette in a blue dress entered, drawing the attention of every man in the room. "Peggy Carter."

The memory Bucky got up from the table, and met her in the doorway. _Sorry, Peg. Steve's not here_.

Peggy held a purse in one hand, her eyes taking in the memory Bucky as if he were only marginally interesting. _I didn't come here looking for Steve, Sergeant Barnes. Just needed to get out of my room on the base for a couple of hours_.

He held up both hands. _And_ _I_ _don't poach in another man's field. Just offerin' a little company to keep the creeps at bay_.

She smiled, and walked past him to the only empty table in the room. He held her chair, keeping a respectable distance. _What'll you have?_

 _Scotch on the rocks. Make it a double, Sergeant Barnes_.

Flipping a jaunty salute, Bucky clicked his heels together. To the bartender, he said, _Double scotch rocks for the lady, bartender. And a beer for yours truly._

Bucky carried the drinks to the table, setting Peggy's in front of her, and taking a drink of his beer as he sat down. _Told you to call me Bucky, Peg_.

 _And_ _I_ _told_ _you_ _not to call me Peg_.

 _Look, dollface, I know we're not exactly friends, but we both care about Steve, and he'd want us to at least be nice to each other_.

She inclined her head in agreement. They sat there not speaking for a while. Then a group of young men came into the pub. New recruits, to go by their enthusiastic smiles.

Bucky nudged Peggy. _Wanna have some fun?_ Her only response was to stare at him without blinking. _I'll bet you_ , he dug in his pocket, and produced a fiver, tossing it on the table, _that I can convince those eager beavers that I'm your brother_.

Wanda shifted her weight onto one foot, crossed her arms, using a mild glare, and a tone of reprimand. "What's going on, Bucky?"

He gave her a sheepish shrug. "Just having a bit of fun, doll. No harm, no foul. Promise."

 **Vancouver**

 **The Clancy Home**

The room was average sized, with a window that faced the back yard, a child-size bed, matching dresser, vanity, and bookshelves. Stuffed animals, books, and other toys were strewn around the room, on shelves, and the unmade bed. The closet door was ajar showing clothes hung neatly on the lowered rod for easy access, shoes, and bigger toys were on the floor. On the shelf above were boxes labeled "winter clothes", "other stuff", and "too small".

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room was an eight-year-old girl, and a brown haired young man. Both were in shorts, t-shirt, and sneakers.

"Hello."

" _Privet_."

"Good-bye."

" _Do svidaniya_." The young man laughed and clapped when she pronounced the phrases correctly. Quinn looked quite pleased with herself. "This is fun, Tay. More."

"Okay. _Kak tebja zovut?_ "

She looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "What is your name?"

" _Da!_ And how do you respond?"

" _Menja zovut_ Quinn Clancy."

Taylor looked at her with mock suspicion. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

Her eyes wide, the girl shook her head, and gripped her favorite stuffed animal, a black and white cat with super long whiskers, and a pink nose. "No!"

"Are you sure?" She nodded vigorously. "Okay. Um, oh! The most important phrase in any language is 'Where is the bathroom?'. In Russian, ' _Gde naxoditsja tualet?'._ Say it slowly. _Gde_ … _naxoditsja…_ _tualet?_

Giving her full attention to the task, Quinn repeated the phrase. " _Gde… naxoditsja… tualet?_ "

"Down the hall on the right." Taylor gathered her into a hug. "That's enough for now, _s_ _estrenka_."

An awful smell assaulted Taylor's senses as he leaned out of the hug. It was followed by the onset of a sharp pain between his eyes. His vision blurred, his ears started ringing, and that was the last thing he remembered.

~~O~~

Taylor arms fell to his sides, but didn't say anything. He stared straight ahead in a way that worried Quinn. "Taylor? What's wrong?" He didn't respond to her question, or when she gave him a hard shake. "Tay!"

As if in slow motion, he fell over and rolled onto his back, his body twitching all over. Quinn jumped up, and ran into the hall. "Ryan! Go get Mom, quick! Somethin's wrong with Taylor!"

Her brother ran down the stairs. "Mom! Mom!"

Quinn went back to Taylor, and knelt down next to him. Placing one hand on his arm below the shoulder, and the other behind his knee, she carefully turned him onto his right side.

About the time she heard footsteps coming up the stairs, the twitching had slowed considerably. It stopped as Julia knelt next to Quinn, and rolled Taylor onto his back again. "What was he doing just before the seizure started?"

" _Nothin'_. He was teachin' me words in his language, and then it happened."

~~O~~

Julia checked Taylor for injuries, that his airway was clear, and loosened the waist of his shorts just in case. "Quinn, how did you know to turn him on his side?"

"We learned about seizures at school. A guy in my class has them, and the teacher wanted all of us to know what to do in case no adults were around."

"You did great, honey."

Quinn pressed against her to watch as Julia checked Taylor's pupil reaction. "He gonna be okay? Want me to call 9-1-1?"

"Let's wait, and see how he feels when he wakes up." As if he'd heard her, the young man moaned, and his eyelids fluttered. She helped him sit up, and turn to lean against the foot of the bed. "Taylor? Can you hear me?"

He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Blinking, he looked at her and Quinn then at Ryan standing in the doorway looking worried. "Yes, I think. What happened?"

She pushed the hair out of his eyes. "You had a seizure."

Quinn raised her chin proudly. " _I_ saved you." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "Please don't die, Tay!"

Taylor's eyes met Julia's over Quinn's head as he rubbed her back soothingly. With a small nod, she told him that they would talk about his episode in more detail when the kids weren't around.

"Not going to die, _sestrenka_." Taylor gave Quinn one last squeeze. "Let me up now. I have to go to the bathroom."

 **Wakanda**

 **Cameron's Room**

Taking in the faces staring at him with a mixture of shock and disbelief, Steve waited for someone to comment, and Sam didn't let him down.

"Um, what? I mean, how is that possible?"

Hill tilted her head to the side, her thinking pose. "Wanda's twenty-one. That means Natasha was eleven when it happened."

Steve shrugged his shoulders. "Nat said she was fifteen when they were born. That makes Wanda seventeen, not twenty-one. So, the question is who's lying? Nat's going by what the matron told her, as well as the memories that are surfacing. Did Wanda lie about her age so she could be an Avenger? Another possibility."

Cameron cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. "Given what we do and don't know about 2R, there's another option: the matron could've lied about when Agent Romanoff was born. If the year of her birth were 1980 instead of '84, then she could've given birth at fifteen, and the children-child would be twenty-one."

"Whatever happened, it's done. She hasn't told Wanda yet, or Bucky, of course. If he knew, he'd have said something to Natasha or to me, at the very least." Steve got to his feet. "Let's table the speculation until this thing with Bucky is resolved."

 **TBC**

 _Kak tebja zovut?_ = What is your name?

 _Dorogaya moya_ = My dear/darling


	33. Stop Dragon My Heart Around

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Stop Dragon My Heart Around**

 **The Cryolab**

Bucky and Wanda watched, enthralled, as the memory Bucky completely fooled the gullible recruits into believing that he and Peggy Carter were siblings.

At the end of the night, Bucky pocketed the fiver, and stood. _May I walk you back to your quarters, Peg?_

Looking at him with carefully concealed humor, Peggy picked up her purse, and allowed Bucky to walk her out. _I don't need an escort, Bucky. I'm perfectly capable of making the walk to the base on my own_.

Bucky tucked his hands out of sight behind his back. _Yeah, I know. But I'm afraid of the dark, and don't wanna walk alone_.

Giving in with a smile, Peggy held onto Bucky's arm as they returned to the base. _Don't worry, I'll protect you_.

When they were less than a quarter kilometer from the gate, the recruits they'd fooled came out of an alley, angry that they'd been taken for a ride. The ringleader got in a lucky punch, and Bucky hit the ground.

Wanda gasped, but didn't try to interfere.

Bucky was glad that they had this time together so he could get to know her better. From her actions, she had no idea that he and Natasha were her birth parents. And for now, he wanted to keep it that way. He watched her when she wasn't looking, seeing Natasha in her eyes, and the way she moved. Both had the natural grace of a dancer.

Wanda grabbed his hand and pointed. That same hand covered her mouth to keep from laughing when Peggy Carter handed Bucky her purse, and took out the five goons in under a minute, without getting a hair out of place.

The leader of the recruits lay on the cobblestone street, breathing hard, and nursing a split lip. He'd also have a shiner by morning.

Holding her back straight, Peggy looked down at them with disdain as she helped Bucky stand. He handed back her purse, brushed dirt from his hands, and pushed the hair off his forehead, grinning smugly at the men. _Forgot to mention that she's with British Secret Intelligence, and is a member of the Strategic Scientific Reserve_. _She can out fight any man in the service, except Captain America_.

 _What the holy hell is goin' on here, Sergeant Barnes?_ Colonel Phillips loomed over the men on the ground. _On your feet!_ The group rushed to stand at attention, awaiting orders. _Back to the base with you. Report to my office at 0630 for disciplinary action_.

The thoroughly embarrassed young men saluted, and ran off into the night.

Wanda touched Bucky's arm. "Who's _that_?"

"Colonel Phillips. The military head of the SSR, Strategic Scientific Reserve. _Not_ a man you want to mess with."

"Ah. The SSR came before SHIELD. It was headed up by Colonel Phillips, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark."

Bucky nodded, impressed by her knowledge of history.

Peggy raised her chin when Phillips brought his stern gaze back to her. _Those men followed me from the pub, Colonel. Sergeant Barnes was kind enough to defend my honor, sir_.

Phillips slanted his eyes from Peggy to Bucky and back. In those eyes, the mind Bucky could see he didn't believe their story for a moment, but said nothing. The Colonel merely nodded in the direction of the base. Bucky and Peggy saluted, and they too vanished into the dark.

Bucky held out his hand, and Wanda took it, following him back to the exit. In a flash, they were outside in the misty hallway once more. The only door left was the black star room. They stared at it, then at each other.

"It's time, Bucky. We can't put it off any longer."

Her tone bothered him. "Why? What's wrong, doll?"

"For us to be able to defeat the trigger words together, you and I must be in the same physical state."

His jitters turned into alarm. "Wanda, please tell me you aren't…"

She nodded. "I'm in cryosleep too."

~~O~~

With nothing to do but wait for Wanda to come out of cryo, the group disbursed. Out in the hall, Sam looked back at Cameron's room then followed Steve, aiming a thumb over his shoulder. "Were you as creeped out by that as I was?"

"What? Cam and Hill?" Steve called for the lift. "Not really. They're both adults. What they do in private is their concern, and not ours."

"Well, it's weird, and creepy. He's sleeping with Hill after sleeping with an imposter who looked like Hill, and turned out to be a KGB agent, _and_ actually seemed to be in love with him."

His friend shrugged. "So what? It's their lives."

Inside the lift, Sam crossed his arms, thinking. "Speaking of… How would you feel if a friend started dating sort of an ex-girlfriend? Hypothetically speaking."

Steve seemed to be confused by the question. "If we're no longer dating, it doesn't matter. Why?"

Sam pressed the button for the gym level. "No reason."

He should've known Steve wouldn't let it go. "Are you saying you're attracted to Kaya?"

"No. Well, yes, but no. She's beautiful, and smart. And that royalty thing is a big plus." From the look on Steve's face, Sam sensed that he'd begun digging a hole for himself, and had to stop before he ended up in China. "But I wasn't talking about Kaya."

Confused, Steve shook his head. "Who _are_ you talking about?"

"Doesn't matter. Probably won't see her again."

The friends went into the gym, surprised to find Clint already there. Sam figured he'd want to keep an eye on Wanda while she was in the cryochamber with Bucky. Their towels were tossed on a bench, and Sam took up a position in front of a punching bag with Steve holding it.

He hadn't even begun to work up a good sweat when Clint got off the treadmill, and strolled casually in their direction while wiping sweat from his face and neck. "So Wilson, you tell Steve about the trip to Vancouver?"

Sam stopped in mid-punch. "Most of it. Why?"

Clint's innocent look was anything but. "No reason. Just wondered if he knew Carter was there. Apparently the CIA suspected she may have aided and abetted some high-profile fugitives escape from a super-secure prison, though they couldn't prove anything. The intelligence community is still rebuilding its rep, so she quit rather than get involved in a lengthy investigation."

The concern Steve showed for Sharon was as a friend, not an ex-girlfriend. "She alright?"

"Yeah. Back working for SHIELD again, such as it is." Sam went back to pounding on the bag, wishing Clint would shut up. No such luck. He just kept talking. "There's a rumor going around that Jeffrey Mace is the new director. What's Carter's take on it?"

"Why are you asking _me_ , Barton?"

The archer hooked the towel around his neck and opened a bottle of water. "Saw the two of you talking out in the woods both nights."

Keeping his head down, and continuing to punch the bag, Sam responded, "She misses her aunt, and we talked. What's the big deal?"

"No big deal. Just sayin'."

To get away from Clint's remarks that said he knew more than he was saying, and from Steve's curious gaze, Sam moved over to the weight rack. "You ladies gossip among yourselves while I knock out some bicep curls."

Making his escape, Sam snagged a pair of fifteen-pound weights, and faced the mirror. The downside was that he could see Clint and Steve watching him with very different looks. Clint's was smug, though that was normal for the archer. Steve, on the other hand, still looked confused.

"Agent Barton, could I have a minute, please?"

All three men turned to see Cameron standing just inside the doorway. Most of the time, the tech appeared nervous. Since coming to Wakanda, he'd gained confidence, and it showed. His back was straight, his expression serious.

Clint jogged to Cameron. They had a short whispered conversation then left together, the tech talking while Clint listened. An unusual occurrence, to say the least.

Steve looked at Sam, who shrugged. How was _he_ supposed to know what was up? Whatever it was, they'd hear about it soon enough, if it impacted the rest of the team. Maybe. Secrets were a way of life with this group. Relieved, Sam went back to his workout.

 **Virtuosity Warehouse**

 **New Westminster, B. C.**

Once training was over, Taylor moved from days to the graveyard shift. And just like it said, the warehouse was as quiet as a graveyard, if you didn't count the machinery, air conditioning, the engine of the forklift he used to move heavy loads and the music blasting from the speakers. Security came around every hour or so. Other than that, he was alone.

Nodding to the beat, Taylor moved a loaded pallet from the locked loading dock to the supply area for sorting by the day shift. After that, his job was to respond to incoming internet questions, and generally keep the wheels greased, so to speak.

He set the pallet with the others, parked the forklift, and shut it down. Using a box cutter, he slit the shrink wrap, stuffed it in the recycle bin, and pictured the layout of the warehouse in his mind. He cracked his neck on the left then the right, and took off.

In the security office, the guard sat with his feet on the desk, and a tablet between him and the monitor. If he had been looking, all he would've seen was a blur moving up and down the aisles as the pallets were emptied.

Taylor finished putting everything away, leaving out only what was needed to fulfill orders. At the computer, he went down the list of other items he needed to get packed for shipping, and went to get them from the shelves.

In the packing area, he got out the boxes, packing materials, and tape. After a quick trip to the men's room, he packed the items, printed the labels, sealed the boxes, and stacked them at the loading dock for the morning pick-up. When done, Taylor looked at the clock. His shift started at ten, and ended at six in the morning. It was just past one in the morning, leaving him five hours with nothing much to do but keep an eye out for incoming orders, and prioritize them according to country, state, postal code for Canada, zip code for the US, and shipping method.

For the first time since waking up in the hospital, he wondered if there were others like him out there. His observations told him that his ability to heal quickly, and move very fast were not the norm. Though he hadn't told Julia or Adam, Taylor had used his super speed on several occasions to foil robberies, car thefts, and to save people from being injured. Most had no idea how they'd been saved, and that worked in his favor.

He remembered one adorable little girl in pink and purple. He'd been across the street when she tripped over her shoelaces. In a flash, literally, he was there to catch her before she was hurt. Had even tied her shoes. The girl had been sweet, and her mother relieved. She'd hugged him, and ran back to her mother to show her how he'd tied the shoes so they wouldn't come undone. Taylor didn't know where he learned the trick. Like everything since before the hospital, it remained out of reach. The computer beeped, and he got back to work.

 **Wakanda**

 **The Cryolab**

In less than the blink of an eye, Bucky's appearance changed from WWII to his current one, but with both arms. He looked down at his hands, one flesh and blood, the other metal.

Wanda touched his arm. "Are you alright?"

He raised his eyes to look at her. "Not sure. Maybe." She didn't seem to believe him, but didn't say anything. "Let's do this, doll. I'm ready to get out of here."

Taking a deep breath, he opened the black star door. Inside the room, the word creatures were back in their cages, sleeping, curled up in the corners like dogs in animal shelters. Keeping his voice low, he leaned close. "Any suggestions for how to do this? Do we open the cages one at a time, or what?"

Bucky blinked when Wanda's clothing changed from the skirt, leggings, and jacket to camouflage, with her long hair stuffed up under a cap. She had the usual assortment of military weapons, knives, handguns, an AR-15, and presumably grenades, smoke bombs, and flash-bangs. She grinned, and he looked down at himself to find he was dressed the same, his long hair also up under a cap. "Looks like we're ready to take them on."

"Then let's go."

"Natasha will be happy to see you again."

He ducked his head, a little embarrassed that his feelings for Natasha were so visible. "I want to see her too." Raising the AR-15, he flipped the safety off. "Do _I_ have to kill them, or can either of us do it?"

"Not sure. Want to try it both ways?"

"Not really." Pointing the muzzle at the cage holding _sil'noe zhelaniye_. His mind automatically produced the translation. Longing. Fitting for the situation. He longed to be out of cryo, to be with Natasha, and their daughter as a family, the way they should have been from the start. "You open the cage, and stand back while I shoot the _svoloch'_."

Wanda eased up to the cage, careful not to wake it. With her hand on the latch, Wanda mouthed _three_ … _two_ … _one_ …

Without warning, the room went completely black. Nothing could be seen. The weapon in his hand vanished, and he could feel his clothing changing as well. Sweeping his hands side to side, he searched for Wanda without calling out in case the words had gotten loose.

Wanda's hand gripped his tightly. He pulled her to him, and whatever she would've said was cut off by a loud snort coming from in front and above them. Bucky brought her around behind him, using his body as a shield. As if his thoughts had created it, a shield appeared in his left hand. At least he assumed it was a shield by the weight.

The snort came again, and with it, the stench of burning sulfur. He looked up, and saw two glowing red orbs bigger than grapefruit. Slowly, the lights came up showing an enormous dragon with the first trigger word, _sil'noe zhelaniye_ , carved in its side. It roared and clawed the air, sending a shiver down Bucky's spine. Wanda was scared too. He could feel her shaking where she pressed against his back.

More roars joined the first as the lights came up again, and they could see that the wild animals in cages had been replaced by dragons, all with the trigger words carved into their sides. Close to his ear, Wanda whispered. "O-oh! I have a _bad_ feeling about this."

"Me too, doll."

 **Cyberspace**

Friday peeked into all the rooms at the compound, but no Tony. Accessing the outside cameras, she found his favorite Audi R8 in dark orange. No doubt the manufacturer had another name for the color, but as far as Friday was concerned, it was orange. The vehicle was parked in its usual spot by the entrance. Checking thermal, she found the engine cold. It hadn't been driven for at least six hours, so where could he be?

Luckily, she knew who to ask.

*Yo, Vis. Knock, knock.*

**Good evening, Friday.**

She again took on the appearance of a tall, red-head, this time in blue satin pajamas, and matching slippers. *How about showing yourself, Vis? Easier to talk that way.*

In front of her, Vision's blue pixels moved around until they'd sorted themselves into a coherent form that resembled his normal outward appearance. When he saw that she was in pajamas, his blue slacks, sweater, and white shirt turned into paisley satin pajamas. **It is good to see you again.**

*You too.* Friday looked him up and down. *Except your pjs clash with your skin colors.*

He looked down at himself. **What would you suggest?**

Putting a hand to her chin in thought, Friday walked around Vision. *Black, or the navy blue you had on a few minutes ago.*

Vision's clothing blurred, and when it cleared, he was wearing navy blue pajamas, and matching slippers. **Does this meet with your approval, Friday?**

The AI smiled. *It does.* She sat down in midair, and crossed her knees, inviting Vision to do the same. When he'd made himself comfortable, she nodded. *Thanks for coming. I've been looking for the boss, but he's MIA.*

**Missing in action? Ah, you're not able to find him on any of your scans.** Vision leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and hands loosely clasped between them. **Mr. Stark doesn't wish to be disturbed. He's working on an updated model of the Iron Man suit.**

*Sorry to disappoint you, bro, but I gotta disturb him. Got come intel he's been hankerin' after.*

**To what are you referring?**

Her smiled turned into a grin. *That's need-to-know, Vis.*

The Vision stood. **Then I will inform him that you're requesting a meeting with him.**

*Coolness. I'll wait right here for you.*

He turned to go, stopped and faced her again. **Friday, would you care to spend time with me in a recreational pursuit?**

Taken aback, Friday got to her feet, and went to stand near Vision. *Are you asking me on a _date_ , Vision?*

Tilting his head to the side in thought, Vision nodded. **I am. What is your answer?**

*I'd love to. So, what exactly do AIs do on a date?*

**Much the same as humans, I suspect. We'll talk later.** Vision's pixels moved around, disappearing one at a time, until he was gone.

 **New York**

 **Former Avengers Compound**

"…and use the ****** _door_ next time!" Tony called out to Vision as he phased through the walls once again. Shaking his head, Tony slid a clear strip into a computer access port. "Friday?"

" _Here, boss. Thanks for the meet_."

"Not in the mood for small talk. Say what you've come to say, and get _out_." There was a longer than usual pause, giving Tony the idea that he'd pissed off the AI.

" _As you wish, boss_." Her voice was tight, and distant. Not her usual warm and friendly tone. " _The Barton clan is back on the grid_."

Surprised, Tony looked up at the ceiling. "Any idea where they've been?"

He heard a shrug in her tone. " _Yes. However, I've been sworn to secrecy_."

"By whom?"

" _Agent Romanoff_."

Tony picked up the face mask to his most recent creation, and held it over his face. "That means you know where she and her fugitive cohorts are hiding out."

She made a tch-tch sound. " _Can't say one way or the other. I promised_."

"What if I order you to tell me?"

" _Won't make any difference. I gave my word_."

Muttering under his breath, Tony set the new faceplate on the lab bench, and headed for the door. "I _really_ gotta revamp your ethics program." Out loud he said, "Get the chopper ready."

 **The Barton Farm**

 **Columbia, Washington**

Using one finger, Laura moved the curtain aside, watching as the chopper landed in the far field where Clint kept the quinjet when he was home. She knew before it came into sight to whom it belonged. The agents posing as hired hands kept working in the fields, trusting Laura to know when to call for help.

Cooper appeared beside her. "It's him, isn't it?"

"'Fraid so, Coop." Laura ran a hand down her eldest child's head to his shoulders. "You remember what we talked about."

"Of course, Mom. We've talked about it almost every day since we came home."

She smiled indulgently. "Then get ready. Nathaniel's down for his nap. Hopefully, he won't wake up till it's over." Laura went to the secret compartment in the back of the hall closet, and came out with a pump-action shotgun. "Stay here."

As Tony Stark reached the far side of the pond, Laura stepped out onto the porch, holding the shotgun behind her back. When he got close enough, she raised the weapon, pumped a round into the chamber, and raised it to eye level. "That's close enough, Mr. Stark."

He kept his eyes on the shotgun, and smiled. "I'm here to pay my condolences, Mrs. Barton."

"Clint's not _dead_ , Tony. He's a fugitive from justice, thanks to you."

"It was his choice not to sign the Accords. I was only following the law."

She snorted good and loud. "That's the same song and dance I got from the men in black who came around asking questions after Clint and the rest were broken out of the prison _you_ helped put them in." He took another step, stopping when she fired a round into the dirt at his feet. His hands came up in a sort of surrender, and a small smile turned up his mouth, as if he didn't think she'd actually shoot him. "For what you let them do to Wanda, you should be in jail yourself. Torturing that poor girl, when all she wanted was to be a part of something, to make amends for what she and her brother had done."

"Secretary Ross assured me that Clint, Wanda, Scott and Sam would be well treated."

"You call a straightjacket, and a shock collar 'well treated'?" Her voice edged up toward hysterical, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. "Did you give _any_ real thought to the Accords before you signed them? Did it ever occur to you that signing the Accords not only kept the Avengers in check, it also allowed a committee of _civilians_ to decide when they should go in? That means a committee of people who don't realize how the world words these days will decide not only who the villains are, but when they should be stopped. And what if this _committee_ ," she let her disdain for the idea show in her tone, "decides that the Avengers should go into a fight that isn't their business? Did you really expect things to turn out any differently, Tony?"

Laura tightened her grip on the shotgun as Cooper stepped out onto the porch next to her. He too held a shotgun, and her only concern was that he might shoot Tony full of buckshot before they got the whole story of why he was really here.

Tony held his hands up in a calming motion. "Whoa there, Cooper. Take it easy, son."

"I'm not your son! It's all _your_ fault my dad's not here."

The front door opened again, and Laura chanced another glance. This time it was Lila, and she was holding the Nerf gun Clint had made especially for her. "I want my daddy back!"

"You know, Lila, I'd love nothing more than for your daddy to be here with you, but…"

"I want my daddy back!" she shrieked at him. The girl ran down the steps, firing her Nerf gun at Tony. When she ran out of ammunition, the billionaire's shoulders sagged in relief. That is, until he saw her reload. Lila kept firing, forcing Tony to back up until he finally had enough.

He took a card out and laid it on the wood post of the horse pen. "Call me if you need anything, Mrs. Barton."

Several Nerf darts hit him in the back as he turned and ran for the chopper. The agents assigned to protect the family came to stand at the bottom of the stairs, everyone watching as the chopper took off, and turned toward the east.

Finally, Laura lowered the shotgun, and Cooper followed her lead. "Come on, kids. Lunch'll be ready soon."

Lila came up the stairs, stopping in the opened doorway. "We sure showed _him_ , didn't we, Mom?"

Setting the shotgun out of the way, Laura hugged her daughter. "We did, Lila. I don't think he'll be back."

"Good." Lila went into the living room to the hall closet, where she stashed her Nerf gun. "I don't like him. I wish _he'd_ been put in prison instead of Daddy."

"Me too, sweetie. Me too."

 **Wakanda**

Staying behind Bucky, Wanda stared at the dragons the trigger words had turned into then she took a step back so she could see what they were wearing. Both were dressed like members of Robin Hood's band of thieves, Bucky in black, red and white, and Wanda in red with black pants. Each had a sword hanging on their left hip, knives in their boots, and on the right hip. Bucky was holding a shield that resembled the one Steve used to carry, and had been left behind after their fight in Siberia.

Bucky backed up until they were side by side. He took out the sword, holding the point up. "Ready?"

The sword made a swoosh as she pulled it from its sheath, and wasn't as heavy as she thought it would be. "I am."

"To the end of the line, _moya doch'_?"

Wanda nodded, and grinned. "To the end of the line."

 **TBC**

 _Stop Draggin' My Heart Around_ was the first single from Stevie Nicks' debut solo album, _Bella Donna_ (1981). It was written by Tom Petty and Mike Campbell as a Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers song. Jimmy Iovine, who was also working for Stevie Nicks at the time, arranged for her to sing on it.


	34. Ticket to Ride

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 _Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country's cause_.  
~ Homer, _The Iliad_

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Ticket to Ride**

Holding his breath for a moment, Bucky waited to see if Wanda had noticed his slip. He hadn't meant to say "my daughter". It just came out. As long as she didn't mention it, he wouldn't either.

"What's the plan?"

Bucky shrugged as he readied for the coming fight, not taking his eyes off the dragon. "No plan. Gonna make it up as I go."

"Ah, the Indiana Jones strategy." She nodded sagely. "Nice."

He glanced at Wanda and back to the dragon. "Who?"

"Never mind. Let's get this over with. I have a date."

"Date? Aren't you a little young?"

Her scoff had a touch of scorn in it. "I'm twenty-one, Bucky. Quite old enough to go on boy-girl dates without a chaperone."

Bucky was saved from responding when the dragon leapt at them. Together, they jumped back, Bucky swinging his sword at the creature with a roundhouse stroke while Wanda hit it backhanded, both leaving long cuts in the scaly skin. It clawed the air, snapping its jaws at one then the other as they double-timed it.

As if they'd practiced it, the pair separated to give it two targets instead of one. The head swung around, and down toward Bucky, as he intended. He raised the shield to protect himself. Unfortunately, he didn't think his Winter Soldier training would help much under these circumstances as it had never included fighting dragons. It really was a case of making it up as he went.

He smacked the dragon on the snout with the shield, and followed it up with a stab from the sword. Blood spurted, and he jumped back to avoid it. The creature howled in pain, and again when Wanda hit it with the edge of her sword, leaving a second slash on the opposite side of the neck.

"Bucky! I have an idea!"

"Let's hear it!"

The creature's head swung from side to side, roaring a warning at both combatants. Apparently seeing Wanda as the lesser threat, it turned in her direction, presenting Bucky with its unprotected side where the words stood out in stark relief. _This has gone on too long_ , he thought. _We have to figure this out before one of us gets hurt. If we're injured, or even die in here, does the same happen in the real world?_

Bucky flipped the sword into the air, catching it just forward of the guard. He drew back, and threw the sword as hard as he could. It hit the dragon in the side between the words, sinking into its flesh up to the hilt. It roared so loud that Wanda winced while it tried to get at the sword with its teeth. Finally, it succeeded, and the sword was pulled from the wound. Black blood spurted, soaking Bucky from head to foot.

Together, he and Wanda backed away as the dragon swayed, and collapsed at their feet. The air around it shimmied, like heat waves coming off the road in summer, and then it, and the blood, was gone. And just like that, _sil'noe zhelaniye_ had been destroyed.

Breathing hard, Wanda and Bucky relaxed their stances, turned to each other and smiled. She came to stand next to him. "So, what was your idea?"

~~O~~

Clint followed Cameron back to his room. Thankfully, Hill wasn't there. He didn't think he could take much more of them making eyes at each other. Come to think of it, when Cameron had been sleeping with the impostor, no one knew. If he'd been asked how Hill would handle the same situation, sleeping with someone under her command, Clint would've said she'd keep it under wraps just to prevent gossipmongers from giving the guy a hard time.

Seldom had he seen Hill get emotional except under extreme conditions. After the battle of New York, he'd watch some of the video, and had seen her reaction to Coulson's death, and again when she punched his lights out for being off on some fool's errand while SHIELD and HYDRA were going at it in D.C. Technically, though, it wasn't a fool's errand. Just an errand he'd been foolish enough to choose the wrong time to do it.

Cameron opened the laptop, and brought up the enhanced photos. He tabbed through the ones of Laura, and the kids one at a time, until he came to the one Clint was interested in. "Stop."

"You know him?"

"Depends."

The tech looked at him with confused curiosity. "On?"

"What facial rec turns up." Without specifically being told, Cameron pulled the laptop over to him, typing so fast Clint couldn't keep up. The display went to a split screen, the photo of the young man helping Lila with her shoes on the left, while the right scanned faces in the usual databases. "This is gonna sound nuts, but I need you to compare it to deceased individuals that also fit the demographic."

Without batting an eye, Cameron typed in the changes. "It'll take a couple of hours at least. I'll call you when the program comes up with something tangible."

Clint slapped him on the shoulder, and stood. "Thanks." At the door, he said over his shoulder, "Tell no one about this. Not even Hill, and especially not Romanoff."

"My lips are sealed, sir."

Instead of calling Cameron on his use of the honorific again, Clint stepped into the hall and closed the door. "****!"

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

 **The Clancy Home**

While Ryan and Quinn set the table, Julia put the finishing touches on dinner. Most nights, Taylor would do the cooking, but today, he begged off saying he had a headache. She didn't question him, but it was apparent he'd had another seizure and didn't want to be fussed over. Too bad. It was her prerogative as the mom to fuss over the family, especially when they weren't feeling well.

Adam came into the kitchen, kissed her on the neck, and took the ladle. "I'll finish. You go check on Taylor."

Gracing her husband with a smile, Julia went up the back stairs to the second floor. Taylor's room was the first on the left. At the door, she heard the distinctive sounds of someone having a seizure.

She rushed into the room in time to see Taylor hit the floor… under his bed. Anyone else would've gaped at the scene, but she was a doctor, and used to unusual situations. This, however, was stranger than she'd ever seen. How does someone fall _through_ the bed?

She knelt down, bending low enough to reach Taylor's wrist to count the beats. After what just happened, she expected more than a normal steady beat. He moaned, and rolled onto his side facing her, blinking with a confused expression. Closing his eyes, he moaned, "Not again."

"How do you feel?"

"Like a fool." Taylor crawled out from under the bed, and Julia helped him sit on the side. "How did I get under the bed?"

He bore her maternal and professional fussing as she checked him over. "Not sure." Julia completed her exam, and brushed the hair from his forehead as she would for a much younger child. "Think you can eat something?"

"If that's your Double Jack Stew I smell, I can probably choke down a few bites." Taylor pushed to his feet, and Julia held onto him through a bout of dizziness.

"The seizures are getting worse, honey. You should see a neurologist."

Standing together, he looked down into her face, and Julia knew he saw the worry. Reluctantly, he nodded. "Not until my medical insurance kicks in." They went down the back stairs to the kitchen where Adam was ladling the stew into bowls. Ryan carried a basket of rolls and the butter to the table, followed by Quinn with the salad. "Mmm. Smells good, _Matushka_."

Since Taylor had come to live with them, their food bill had nearly doubled. The young man could eat twice as much as the average man his age and muscular physique and still have room for dessert. But no one complained, and wouldn't, even if he wasn't contributing part of his paycheck to cover some of the cost. They Clancys loved him no matter what.

At the table, the family took their seats, automatically extending their hands to create a prayer circle while Adam said grace.

 **Wakanda**

 **The Cryolab**

 **Kaya's Office**

With Clint and Scott out of the way, Natasha was alone in Kaya's office watching Wanda and Bucky on the monitor. A second smaller screen displayed their vital signs side by side.

A few minutes ago, Natasha had been jolted when the monitor beeped to indicate an increase in their physical signs, including their EEGs. Within a few minutes, they'd gone back to normal. There was no way to know what had caused it, though she guessed that Wanda and Bucky may have encountered the trigger words, whatever form that took in his mind, wild animals, or something worse. Hopefully it meant they were making progress. She had absolute faith that they would all come through this ordeal with their minds and bodies intact, that they'd be a family. Okay, so the last part would take a while. She just had to be patient. Easy as pie, right?

~~O~~

Sitting in the corner of the library farthest from everyone else, Steve read the page in front of him again, and still couldn't remember a word. His mind wouldn't let him concentrate. It kept going off on a tangent, holding up small, barely recalled moments with his teammates that, for some reason, his subconscious gave higher importance.

Clint and Cameron leaving the gym together, and Clint coming back to the gym alone, seemingly not happy, and lost in thought.

Cameron seemed willing to do whatever was asked of him, as if they were on the helicarrier or at the Triskelion. They'd have to have a talk at some point, so Steve could remind him that they're all "just a kid from Brooklyn", or wherever Cameron was from.

Then there were Sam's enigmatic remarks about ex-girlfriends. Steve had no idea who he could be talking about. Peggy was the closest thing he had to an ex, and she'd been lost to him a long time ago.

Scott was pretty much an open book, even where Wanda was concerned.

Natasha and Wanda were the only two whose motivations were clear. Both women wanted Bucky cured so he could be brought out of cryosleep, though their reasons were different. What Steve didn't understand was why Natasha hadn't yet told Wanda the truth of her parentage.

Maria Hill. Of their group, she was the only one who didn't appear to have some hidden agenda, though Steve knew that was misleading. Considering her profession, secrets and hidden agendas were a way of life.

Kaya was mostly open, though some things were kept close to the vest. Steve attributed it to her profession, and left it at that.

Because reading wasn't working, Steve put the book back on the shelf, and went for a walk through the market. As he passed the entrance to the jungle surrounding the compound, he wondered where the panthers had gone.

As he came to the center of the village, Steve saw a group of children gathered. They were by turns enthralled, erupting in laughter, and clapping, along with raising their voices, and crying out for more. More of what?

Steve's curiosity got the better of him. He circled the plaza that surrounded the fountain, and eventually found what had the children, and some of the adults, so excited: Scott was performing magic tricks. In exchange for some of the tricks, he asked the children to teach him words in Wakandan, and they happily complied.

When the team was ready to make their own way, maybe Clint and Scott could do an act together. Cameron had computer skills he could pass on. Hill and Natasha could be personal trainers. Steve laughed to himself thinking about he and Bucky opening a moving or construction company. Clint could work with them as a way to utilize his contractor's skills.

Whatever they did, idle speculation wouldn't get them out on their own any sooner. He made a mental note to speak to T'Challa when he came back from his trip. Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and continued his walk.

~~O~~

Wanda returned the sword to its sheath, casting a surreptitious glance at Bucky. He'd been acting oddly since she returned. Watching her when he thought she wasn't looking, with a sad and nostalgic expression. She didn't want to question him on it just yet. That could wait until they were out of cryofreeze. For now, they needed to concentrate on defeating the trigger words.

"You okay, doll?"

"Yes. Why?"

Bucky came around in front, placing a hand on her upper arms, and looking intently into her eyes. "You've been staring into space."

She twitched one shoulder. "Just thinking."

"About your idea?"

"I've noticed that the environment changes with your moods, when your memory is stimulated, or if you really want something. We can make that work _for_ instead of against us."

He nodded, obviously finding merit in her suggestion. "We look like something out of an Errol Flynn movie." Stepping back, he held up the sword again. "So, if I imagine us swinging into the fight on ropes from trees, then…"

The world around them blurred, and changed, and they found themselves in a tree. Hanging from the thick branches in front of them were two ropes. They still had swords, but now Bucky was sporting a bow, and quiver. He looked down at himself, and at her, grinning. "Ask, and you shall receive."

A mighty roar interrupted their conversation, and the trees shook as heavy footsteps came down the path. Through the leaves, Wanda could make out another dragon, this one slightly larger than the last, and just as ugly. She leaned close to Bucky. "This would work better if we were on opposite sides."

In the blink of an eye, Wanda found herself in a tree across from Bucky. He shrugged sheepishly, wrapped his left hand around the rope, and drew his sword while she did the same, pompously intoning, "Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country's cause."

At the same time, they pushed off the branches, swinging through the air. Wanda's hair had come out from under the hat, streaming behind her in a long braid.

In her mind, she thought of herself as Will Scarlet to Bucky's Robin Hood as she landed firmly on the ground several yards from the dragon. Her partner hit the ground running, giving out a wordless battle cry as he charged at the creature with _rzhavet_ etched into his side. Rusted. Did it have significance to Bucky? Or were the trigger words random? She wouldn't know the answer to that until this was all over.

This time, Wanda and Bucky knew what they were doing. They kept moving, darting in, attacking and retreating before the creature's claws, teeth or tail could catch them. One side of her mouth turned up, thinking about Natasha teaching her self-defense.

 _Attack, and retreat to a safe distance to watch for your opponent's next move_.

She'd grinned slyly, and replied, _So hit them, and run away. Got it._

While Wanda was daydreaming, the dragon had somehow cornered Bucky. Her friend had his back against a pile of enormous boulders. _Rzhavet_ slapped him with its claw, sending him into pile of leaves that were shades of red, orange, and brown. The dragon was toying with him, and seemed to have forgotten all about her. Hmph! She would show him the folly of his ways.

Holding the grip in both hands, the blade of the sword pointed at the dragon, Wanda ran at the creature, screaming her own battle cry. Too late, it remembered she was there, and that it had left itself unprotected. She jammed the sword into its side between the H and A in _rzhavet_ , not stopping until it could go no further.

It roared in pain, a deep, guttural sound that shook Wanda down to her very bones. She changed her grip, and twisted the sword. The roars rose in pitch as it swayed.

Leaving her weapon in the wound, Wanda retreated, glancing over at Bucky as he climbed first to his hands and knees, then to his feet. She gave the dying creature a wide berth as she circled around to his side. With a shake of his head, he let her know he was alright.

The dragon's eyes rolled back in its head as it collapsed to the ground, making their world tremble. Relieved, Wanda threw her arms around Bucky, and squeezed him tight.

"You were amazing, Wanda."

" _We_ were amazing." Holding onto each other, they found a boulder to sit on. "Let's rest, and get a drink before we go after the next one."

Bucky shook his head. "No argument from me." He aimed his next words at the false sky. "How about a couple of ice cold beers?"

Two frosty glasses appeared in front of them. They plucked them from the air, and drank them down without stopping. Wanda used the base of her thumb to wipe the foam from her lip. "Mmm. Another?"

"You sure? Wouldn't want my sidekick getting drunk in the middle of a fight."

"Quite sure. And I never get drunk, no matter how much I drink." He looked at her strangely again. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing that can't wait." He sipped his second drink more slowly.

Wanda didn't use such restraint. She drank it down. "What's the next word?"

Their bantering atmosphere popped like a balloon. " _Semnadtsat'_. And after that comes _rassvet_."

"Seventeen, and daybreak. I know that's only four of the ten, but they don't seem to have any meaning. Totally random."

"If they're random, is it necessary to kill them in order?"

Getting to her feet, Wanda tugged the bottom of her tunic back into place. "As you said before, we shouldn't experiment."

Bucky got up with her. "You know, except for the Robin Hood gear, I felt a little like John Wayne going after the bad guys who killed his parents."

In the blink of an eye, Wanda and her companion went from standing in a forest, to sitting astride a couple of muscular bays, and dressed for the venue in dusty jeans, boots, and bandanas around their necks, including cowboy hats. She flicked the reins, and the horse started walking. "By the way, Bucky, I am _not_ a sidekick."

He came up alongside her. "No?"

She pushed the hat back on her head, and looked at him sideways so he could see her smirk. "The term is superhero support."

~~O~~

Standing outside the isolation room where Bucky and Wanda were being kept, Natasha breathed a sigh of relief when their vital signs returned to normal. She was no doctor. However, it appeared that the intervals of elevated vital signs had to be happening when they engaged the "enemy". They must be succeeding, or the readings would still be off.

Kaya came up beside her. "It's late, Natasha. You should get some rest. I or one of my staff will let you know if anything changes."

Knowing the doctor was right, Natasha left the clinic and returned to the residential wing. In her room, she kicked off her shoes, and lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and thinking about how different her life would've been if she had raised Wanda and Pietro herself. Even if Bucky hadn't been there, they wouldn't have gotten tangled up with von Strucker, or been in Sokovia when Ultron attacked. Pietro would be alive, Natasha wouldn't have Clint as a best friend, and they wouldn't be fugitives hiding out in Wakanda.

She could play this game all day, enumerating the gazillion ways that their lives would've turned out if a single random factor had been changed. However, it felt too much like climbing on board the pity train, and she didn't have a ticket to ride.

Starving herself wouldn't make the time pass quicker, either. In fact, she felt like going out for dinner, and though they didn't know it, the rest of the team was coming with her. She bounced out of bed, and padded across the hall in her stocking feet. Her hair was a mess, and she hadn't changed clothes in more than twenty-four hours. Normally, she wouldn't allow herself to be caught in any state other than perfect condition, not counting those times where the fate of the world was at stake.

She knocked, and the door was opened immediately. "Can I help you, Agent Romanoff?"

"Cam, I need you to contact the rest of the team, and tell them we're going out to dinner." She turned away, and came back.

"Me too, ma'am?"

The tech's eyes widened at Natasha's, "Yes, you too, Cam. You're a part of this team. Chop, chop, Klein."

 **New York**

 **Former Avengers Compound**

Without Pepper around to keep his life in order, Tony had to do it all himself, and that didn't set well with the billionaire because he never had much patience for mundanities. Yet here he was, sorting through the paperwork that Steve had let pile up on his desk.

Most of it went into the shredder because it dealt with purported sightings of one James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. "Worthless." _Z-z-z-zt_. "Junk mail. Doubly worthless." _Z-z-z-zt_. "A program from Peggy Carter's funeral. Ah, I shoulda been there." He reverently placed it in the top right drawer.

Then Tony pulled out the file folders, flipping through them one at a time, and found nothing worth worrying about. Not until he came to the single legal sized folder, the contents of which made him sit up and take notice. He read the document, absently taking the tumbler of scotch from Dummy, without bothering to check that there were exactly five ice cubes.

 _Herein let it be known that I,_ _Steven Grant Rogers_ _, a legal resident of Washington D.C., being of sound mind and body, do declare that this document is to be used as my Last Will and Testament thereby superseding any previous Wills and Codicils_.

"You have a sounder mind and body than most of us, old man."

The most shocking part was the list of his heirs. It was short, one name.

 _In the event of my death, I hereby name Anthony Edward Stark as the sole heir to my entire estate, to be disposed of as he sees fit…_

Unable to read the rest, he closed the folder and slapped it on the desk so hard, the document slid out the side. It lay there taunting him with its words of faith, friendship… and family. The rest of the scotch went down easy, the ice cubes rattling in the glass. He was tempted to throw it at the wall, but all that would do was make a mess for Dummy to clean up. "That sonofa*****! Every time I want to hate him, he does something like this. It's signed and notarized, too." Planting his elbows on the desk, Tony dropped his head into his hands. "Friday!"

" _Here, boss. What's your pleasure?_ "

Tony spread Steve's will on the desk top. It wasn't that hard. There were only three pages. "Scan the document on the desk, and transmit it to the attorney's office on page one."

" _Done and done_." He gathered the pages, slid them back into the folder, and set it in the slot where he found it. " _By the way, boss. You didn't answer your phone, so Ms. Potts left a message_."

"She already has custody of the big corporate jet, the Bentley, the penthouse on Long Island, and Happy. What more does she want?"

" _Ms. Potts would like you to join her for dinner Saturday night_."

Huffing, Tony stood, and carried the crystal tumbler back to the bar. "Another SI function where we have to pretend we're still talking to each other? 'No, 'nothing's wrong, Senator Whose-Name-I've-Forgotten. Why do you ask?'"

There was a thoughtful pause, then, " _No, boss. Cocktails and dinner will be at the mansion. The guest list consists of you and Ms. Potts. No one else._ "

Instead of more scotch, Tony pulled a root beer from the 'fridge, twisted the top off, and took a swig. Holding the bottle in his right hand, he went to the south facing windows, looking, but not seeing. "Did she happen to mention what I've done to merit yet another personal appearance by SI's CEO?"

" _No, but I could hazard a guess_."

"Please do."

" _She wants the two of you to get back together_."

 **TBC**


	35. Six Heads are Scarier than One

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Six Heads are Scarier than One**

 **New York**

 **Former Avengers Compound**

Tony picked up a tool to make adjustments to the faceplate. "Are those her exact words?"

" _Not specifically, no. It's the fact that she requested the meal to be at the mansion instead of her office as per usual when she's upset with you, or something you've done, and that she asked me to have the staff prepare your favorite meal_."

"Did you happen mention I've sent the staff on an all-expense paid trip to Disney World? They won't be back until Monday."

A hologram of an attractive redhead hovered next to the schematic already displayed. If Tony didn't know better, he'd've thought she was humoring him. " _No. I_ _did_ _, however, hire temporary staff to fill in, and gave them very specific instructions, boss. They'll arrive by noon on the day of. Dessert will be something with blueberries_."

At the work table, Tony set the faceplate aside, picked up the left hand and forearm of the suit, exchanged one tool for another, and went to work. "What time?"

" _Eight. Ms. Potts will arrive fashionably late at eight-fifteen._ _You_ _, however, must be there to greet her, or she will have Mr. Hogan take her home. Though she didn't say, I got the sense that this is a make or break situation_."

He'd believe it when Pepper said the words. He looked over his shoulder at the hologram, shaking the tool for emphasis. "You are entirely too prescient for an AI. Might have to do something about that."

The redhead scoffed. " _You've been threatening to rewrite my subroutines for months_."

"And I'm gonna get around to it one of these days. Now go, and leave me in peace, Friday."

" _I'm gone_." The hologram shrank in on itself, and disappeared.

 **Bellona's Bistro**

At dinner with his friends, Cameron smiled through the appetizers, onion bhajia and akaras with red kosayi. He talked, and laughed through the entrées shared with Hill, baba ghanoush and kushari. All the while, he was cringing inside every time the band's pianist hit that sour note. How could he make the exact same mistake over and over again, hitting middle C and B together?

The server had just left with their dessert orders, and Cameron couldn't take it anymore. He laid his napkin beside his plate, and stood. "I'll be right back."

He was in luck. The band was taking a break. He loitered offstage until the pianist came through the curtain, speaking to him in Wakandan. "Excuse me. My name's Cameron. My friends and I are guests of King T'Challa."

The other man's face lit up. "Yes, of course. I am Dawit." He gestured, and Cameron followed him out the stage door where they sat on a bench that faced a small grassy area. "I've never met an American before. You're not at all how I pictured you."

"Thanks. I think." Turning a little toward the man, Cameron worked out how to not insult him. "Please don't take what I'm about to say as an insult, because it's not meant that way…"

~~O~~

The band returned to the stage, and while they were setting up, Hill searched for Cameron. She last saw him heading for the bathrooms. To appease herself, she finished off his glass of Zobo, and ordered another. Applause drew her attention to the stage where Cameron was seating himself at the piano.

"Thank you. As you can see, Dawit has graciously given up his place to allow a new friend to sit in for this set. Ladies, and gentlemen, please welcome Cameron." He waited out the applause. "Our first song will be Alex Boyé's rendition of Coldplay's _Paradise_ , _Peponi_."

Sam tapped Hill on the shoulder, and she waved him to silence. She wanted to hear this.

There was a short piano intro then the rest of the band joined in. The lead singer stepped up to the mic.

Hill recognized the song as _Paradise_ , by Coldplay. Sung in Wakandan, the tune was haunting, and passionate. In her mind, she recited the lyrics in English.

 _When she was just a girl,  
She expected the world,  
But it flew away from her reach._

 _And dreamed of para-para-paradise,_ _  
_ _Para-para-paradise,_ _  
_ _Para-para-paradise,_ _  
_ _Every time she closed her eyes_

The last note faded away, and the room applauded, yet Hill only had eyes for Cameron, seeing him blush lightly at the praise. He stood, and took a bow at the lead singer's urging. When he made to leave, Dawit waved him back from his seat at a table near the stage.

The band huddled together, speaking in whispers. The lead singer returned to the mic to announce the next song, one that had been popular in the US shortly before HYDRA had tried to take over the world. With her eyes on Cameron, Hill let the music flow over and around, drawing her in.

 **The Cryolab**

Even knowing they couldn't really be hurt, Wanda still feared for Bucky as he jumped on _odin's_ back. The dragon roared, and reared up on its back legs, claws flailing in the air as it tried to dislodge the weight.

Bucky worked his way up to wrap both legs around _odin's_ neck just below the skull. His held on tight, tilting the dragon's head back to expose its throat. "Now Wanda! Do it now!"

The knife in her hand changed to a razor-sharp sword. She gave a rebel yell as she ran toward _odin_. A trampoline appeared in front of her, and she used it to gain the height she needed.

On the second bounce, Wanda swung the sword, neatly slicing through the dragon's neck. Blood spurted in a giant geyser, soaking her to the skin. As she'd done on previous occasions, she ignored the stickiness and sickening metallic smell.

Bending her knees to stop the bouncing, she jumped off the trampoline, and finished the dragon off by stabbing it through the heart.

As the dragon fell, Bucky leaped free, walking backward as the _odin's_ body twitched and jerked through its death throes. The tail lashed side to side, the action slowing, and finally coming to a stop. The creature exhaled one long groan, and died.

Wanda joined Bucky, and they hugged each other tight. "Oh, my God. I thought we'd never kill it."

"You did great, doll. I'm both humbled by, and proud of your skills."

Stepping out of his embrace, she looked down at their clothes. Some of the blood that covered her from head to foot had been transferred during contact. "Thanks. Could you…" Wanda motioned to their clothes; Bucky leveled his gaze, and a moment later, the blood, the smell, and the dragon were gone.

The pair now found themselves in a sports bar. Their clothing had changed to fit the venue. Together, they found a table, dropping wearily into chairs. As if by magic, several pitchers of beer materialized in front of them, along with more food than they could ever eat at one sitting.

When they'd eaten and drunk their fill, the scene changed to a sofa in a cozy living room. Wanda relaxed, closing her eyes, just breathing. When she opened them again, Bucky had turned sideways in the seat, watching her with an unreadable expression. "Something wrong?"

As if he'd only realized what he was doing when she pointed it out, he shook his head. "I was wondering what's going on out in the real world. Are Natasha, Steve, and Scott camped out in the cryolab waiting for us to be brought out, or are they going about daily routine until Dr. Hawa deems it's safe?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "For a while, the panthers stood guard over you. I think they only let me near because they sensed that I was trying to help."

He took her hand in his, and stood, urging her to do the same. "We deserve the night off, doll. How about I conjure up a place to sleep, and we tackle _gruzovoy avtomobil'_ in the morning?"

Returning his smile, Wanda let her posture slump. "That's a wonderful idea. What did you have in mind?"

Grinning smugly, he tilted his head to the side. "Something along the lines of…"

The scene around them shifted once more. The cozy living room disappeared, replaced by what looked like a hotel suite. But not just any hotel suite. This one screamed luxury.

The carpet was snow white, and felt heavenly against her now bare feet. Wanda looked up, and their clothing changed from jeans and t-shirts, to super-soft, fluffy robes and slippers.

a man and a woman stood on either side of the room. Bucky motioned them forward. "While you take a long hot bath, she will lay out your nightclothes, and turn down the bed. Before going to sleep, she will give you the most enjoyable massage you've ever had." The man moved to Bucky's side. "He'll do the same for me. And after a good night's sleep, we'll send _gruzovoy avtomobil'_ to its grave."

"It's a deal."

The woman made an after you gesture, and Wanda preceded her into the bedroom on the left. Ignoring the lavish furnishings of the sleeping area, she went into the bathroom, which was the size of the common area and kitchen at the Avengers compound combined. The door closed behind her, and Wanda wasted no time getting undressed. She put her hair up, stepped into a tub that could easily fit four grown adults without crowding, and lowered herself into the hot, bubbly water that smelled of lavender. Because they were in Bucky's mind, their muscles shouldn't actually hurt, nor should they experience pain, fatigue, hunger or thirst. Wanda's theory was that they heard, felt, and experienced anything and everything that Bucky thought they should.

She heard the sound of glass touching ceramic, and opened her eyes, already knowing what she would see. A crystal flute of champagne had appeared. Reluctantly, she lifted her right arm out of the warm water, picked up the glass and took a long sip. She'd never had champagne before, and supposed the flavor was Bucky's idea of what it would taste like.

When the glass was empty, Wanda set it aside, submerged her arm again, and closed her eyes, deciding to get out when the water got cold. But it never did, nor did the bubbles dissipate. Mentally shrugging, she stepped out onto the softest bathmat she'd ever felt, and wrapped an enormous bath blanket around her body on her way to the door. In the middle of the bedroom sat a massage table, the female attendant standing nearby, patiently waiting.

Wanda lay face down on the table, moaning with pleasure as the attendant rubbed her shoulders.

~~O~~

The male attendant massaged down to Bucky's lower back, eliciting moans and groans of pleasure. The man's hands stopped their work without moving on to another part of the body.

Bucky opened his eyes, and raised up on his elbows, looking around in puzzlement. The bedroom was as it had been before, but the attendant was gone. Then the scene shifted, and Bucky found himself once more in the white fog that swirled and eddied as if moved by a light breeze.

He got off the table, and it immediately disappeared, as did the towel around his waist, which was replaced with his Winter Soldier uniform and gear. A hand touched him, and he knew without looking that Wanda had joined him.

"What's going on, Bucky? Why are we here?"

One shoulder lifted and dropped in a shrug. "Guess my subconscious had other ideas."

"Too bad. I was really looking forward to sleeping in that bed after my massage."

The glance he shot her confirmed what he heard in her voice. Irony could be tricky, and Wanda had pulled it off magnificently. "Maybe next time."

A strong breeze came through, ridding them of the fog, and the chill it brought to their skin.

They both winced as multiple roars rolled through the area, shaking their little world. Going back to back, they raised the weapons that appeared in their hands, eyes searching for the source.

Wanda elbowed him in the back, speaking over her shoulder in a whisper. "Turn around. Slowly. And don't make any sudden moves."

Bucky did as she instructed. His protective instincts kicked in at the sight before them. As one, they looked up to where the sky would be. Beside him, he sensed Wanda's fear and determination, and almost burst out laughing when she said, "Bucky?"

He responded without taking his eyes from the apparition. "Yeah?"

"We're gonna need a bigger boat."

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

 **The Clancy Home**

Taylor pushed back from the computer, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He'd been studying for his GED-he glanced at the clock-going on three hours. It wasn't that the work was difficult, just that much of it was information he already knew. At this pace, he would be eligible to take the test within a week, perhaps less. Still, he studied because he wanted to make his family proud by getting a good score.

Okay, so he needed to hit the books a little harder on English, government, and probability and statistics. The history and science stuff was easy-peasy mac-and-cheesy, as Ryan would say.

Exhaling loudly, Taylor picked up his empty dinner plate, and carried it down downstairs, taking care to avoid the one step that creaked. In the kitchen, he rinsed the plate and silverware, and put them in the dishwasher. He made a mental note to start it after the family had left for work and school in the morning.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in several hours. He peered into the refrigerator, but there were no leftovers. There seldom were, unless he ate with his friends from work or the library. Then, way in the back, he found a slice of chocolate cake with his name on it. Literally. Either Julia or Adam had written his name on the foil cover with a Sharpie.

He carried the cake and a bottle of water to the kitchen nook, and went back for a fork. He removed the foil, and cut a huge bite. While he chewed, Taylor replayed the videos he'd watched in his head. All the information had been committed to memory. In addition to a near eidetic memory, except for the period before waking up in the hospital, his comprehension of the material was excellent. At least _he_ thought so.

When the cake was gone, he rinsed the dishes, and put them in the dishwasher with the rest, and leaned against the counter to finish off the water.

The life he was making for himself pleased him, except for the seizures. He counted himself lucky that he hadn't had one in nearly a week.

As if that thought were the trigger, Taylor felt the familiar stab of pain that preceded a seizure. His right hand began to shake, and he gripped the bottle tighter, the plastic crinkling with the force. Then suddenly, it was on the floor, water trickling from the opening.

The pain in his head stopped just as abruptly, and he stood there looking at his hand. His grip hadn't faltered, so how could he have dropped it?

Taylor picked up the crumpled bottle, and dumped it in the recycle bin then used paper towels to wipe up the mess. He got another bottle, and drank most of it on the way back to his room.

Turning the chair around, he straddled the seat, pulled the keyboard close, and went back to work with his chin resting on the back.

 **Wakanda**

 **Bellona's Bistro**

While the bass player replaced a string, the band members again huddled around Cameron at the piano. The man let them know when he was ready, and they returned to their positions. Before they started the next song, Clint wiped his mouth, dropped the napkin next to his plate, and stood. "Be right back."

He went to the edge of the stage, and motioned the lead guitarist over. Clint made his request, thankful that the man spoke English, and the two traded places. The other man handed Clint a second guitar. He slipped the strap over his head, tuned the instrument by ear, and nodded that he was ready.

"Ladies, and gentlemen, another of King T'Challa's guests has requested to sit in on this set. Please welcome Clint."

The applause reminded him of being at the circus. As a teen, he'd basked in the praise from the audience. But he'd been away too long. Now it was embarrassing. Sort of. Okay, that was a lie. He liked it.

The singer motioned Clint over. "Do you sing as well, my friend?"

Clint waggled his hand. "Depends on who you ask." It was the truth. His wife, kids, Natasha, and the gang down at the Watering Hole seemed to be the only people who enjoyed listening to him sing.

They went back and forth on the song, and finally settled on something they all knew.

He and the singer, Hanif, changed places. Clint adjusted the mic to his shorter height, played a short riff, and pronounced himself ready. "Thanks, Hanif. I'll do my best not to scare your audience away." There was a smattering of polite laughter. "The song we're gonna do is as popular now as it was back in '76. It's called _New York State of Mind_."

He played the intro, trusting the others to come in at the appropriate time.

 _Some folks like to get away  
Take a holiday from the neighborhood  
Hop a flight to Miami Beach or to Hollywood  
But I'm takin' a Greyhound on the Hudson River line  
I'm in a New York state of mind_

 _I've seen all the movie stars  
In their fancy cars and their limousines  
Been high in the Rockies under the evergreens  
I know what I'm needin'  
And I don't want to waste more time  
I'm in a New York state of mind_

 _It was so easy livin' day by day  
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues  
But now I need a little give and take  
The New York Times, the Daily News_

 _It comes down to reality  
And it's fine with me cause I've let it slide  
I don't care if it's Chinatown or on Riverside  
I don't have any reasons  
I left them all behind  
I'm in a New York state of mind_

 **The Cryolab**

Bucky looked at her as if she was nuts. "Boat?"

Shaking her head, Wanda moved a little closer to him. "It's from a movie, _Jaws_. I'll explain later." She pointed the business end of her rifle at the dragon. "Is this really how you see it?"

"Or how my subconscious sees it." His hands tightened on his weapon. "Sure is an ugly son of a gun. Gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Though she'd never heard the term before, Wanda understood the meaning, and agreed. "It's considerably larger than the others. These weapons may not do the trick, unless _you_ believe they will."

"I must, or else why would we have been outfitted with sniper rifles instead of handguns?"

"Or swords?" The chuckled together, the sound catching in their throats when their clothing and weapons morphed into in medieval style once again. The creature took a step in their direction, making the ground shake, and putting them both on full alert. "Let's do this, Bucky. I'd like to get out of here soon. I've got a life to live."

He snorted. "You and me both, doll."

~~O~~

The final trigger word, _gruzovoy avtomobil'_ , differed from all the others in that not only was it approximately the size of a two-story house, it also boasted six nearly identical heads, all in constant motion. As yet, it had only made a single movement in their direction, but that wouldn't last.

"How ironic," Bucky muttered under his breath. "For seventy years, I was a prisoner of HYDRA, and now I have to kill the mythical creature that gave them their name."

"I wouldn't worry. We defeated the others, and we'll defeat this one too."

Smiling with genuine affection, Bucky nudged Wanda with his elbow. "Of course we will, doll.

'Cause we're one _hell_ of a team."

"Yes, we are." She side-eyed him. "Shall we go on the defensive?"

Bucky pretended to think it over. "Why not? I'm ready to get this done."

Wanda widened her stance, knees slightly bent, gripped the long-sword in both hands, and brought the tip up.

The wind picked up, carrying the stench of sulfur to them. Bucky's stomach dropped. That smell could only mean one thing.

Three of the hydra heads dipped low, their jaws gaping as they spit a steady stream of fire at the pair. Bucky tossed his sword away, and threw them both to the ground. They rolled over several times, hoping to get out of the line of fire. Ducking his head, he used his body to protect Wanda just as the flames passed through the space where they'd just been, though he could feel the heat on his back.

He lifted his head, and looked over his shoulder. "Too close for comfort."

"Too bad we don't have hazmat suits."

"Pardon?"

Getting to his feet, Bucky helped Wanda stand, dragging her behind a boulder to hide from the creature. She brushed futilely at her long hair, which had come loose, and was sticking to her face and neck. With just a thought, the hair had returned to the bun she'd previously worn, and she gave him a smile of thanks. "It's a full-body suit worn as protection from fire, poisonous gas, or even someone with a highly contagious disease."

Deciding it could only help their cause, Bucky concentrated on outfitting them as she'd described. Yet when he opened his eyes, they were still in their medieval clothing, with swords and knives as weapons.

Wanda reached back, and found that she was now equipped with a bow and arrow. She unslung the bow, examining it from all angles.

"You know how to use one?"

"Sort of. Clint has been teaching me. But I'm not even close to his skill level. I can barely hit the target."

Bucky peeked over the boulder. "That thing's big enough, almost anyone could hit it."

"Or you could imbue me with the necessary skills."

Pressing two fingers to his right temple, Bucky sent the request to his subconscious. "How do we know if it worked?"

The smile she flashed him bordered on a smirk as she nocked an arrow, and stood. She pulled the string back to her cheek, and released. The arrow flew through the arrow, imbedding itself in the eye of the closest head. The creature roared with pain and anger, its claws raking the air as it searched for the source of its pain.

Together, Bucky and Wanda sat down with their backs to the boulder, wincing as another stream of fire slashed over their heads. They shared a grin. "I'd say that was a successful experiment, doll."

She agreed, if her smile was anything to go by. "It's also time to stop stalling, Bucky."

"You're right. On three. Divide and conquer. One… two… three."

The pair rolled to their feet, and ran toward the hydra creature, splitting up to attack it on separate fronts.

The heads swayed side to side, trying to keep them in sight.

Wanda let loose one arrow after the other, and though it didn't seem possible, they pierced its scaly hide, distracting it so that he was able to move in close enough to take a two-handed swing with the sword.

To his surprise, one of the heads dipped low, and he was able to cut it off where the neck met the shoulders. The opening spurted blood, though not nearly as much as he thought it should have.

He was momentarily distracted by the head that rolled to a stop in front of him, the forked tongue lolling out the side, its eyes held the glaze of death. Crouching, he used a knife to poke the tongue. "One down, five to…"

"Bucky!"

Surging to his feet, Bucky ran to Wanda's side. "What is it, _moya doch'_?"

Wanda's jaw dropped, and all she could do was point. They held onto each other out of fear, and together, they watched in stunned silence as two heads replaced the one that Bucky had just cut off.

 **TBC**

 _Paradise_ is a song by British alternative rock band Coldplay. The song was released in September of 2011 as the second single from their fifth studio album, _Mylo Xyloto_. The version referenced is by Alex Boyé, _Peponi_.

 _New York State of Mind_ is a song written by Billy Joel, which initially appeared on the album _Turnstiles_ in 1976. **Jeremy Renner sings a fantastic version of this song. Google it.

 _Jaws_ is a 1975 American thriller film directed by Steven Spielberg and based on Peter Benchley's 1974 novel of the same name.


	36. By Sword and Fire

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **By Sword and Fire**

The hydra's seven heads were in constant motion, roaring, and snorting steam, while the tail lashed side to side, and the claws raked the air.

Bucky and Wanda held onto each other, momentarily paralyzed by fear. Wanda clutched at his sleeves. "It seems we both should have paid more attention to the _myth_ of the hydra."

"The motto of HYDRA should've given us a clue: Cut off one head and two more shall take its place." They winced when the creature roared again, almost as if it were challenging them. Bucky closed his eyes, concentrating. To his relief, a field sprung up around it, preventing it from attacking. From experience, it wouldn't last long. They had to make this quick.

Wanda eased out of his arms, poised to grab on again. "If I remember correctly, slaying the hydra was the second labor of Hercules."

"He was sent by Eurystheus to slay the hydra which Hera had raised in order to kill Hercules. I'm guessing it was to keep him from completing the Twelve Labors. He drew the hydra out of his lair at the spring of Amymone using flaming arrows."

"Yes. The creature only emerged from the cave to terrorize neighboring villages."

Bucky rubbed the back of his head with one hand while the other fingered the sword now in its sheath. "One of the heads is supposedly immortal."

"Perhaps together, we can make your subconscious believe that it can be killed."

"How do we do that?" The field surrounding the hydra sputtered, and vanished.

Facing Bucky, Wanda rubbed her fingers together, generating a red mist. "I need you to concentrate. You must have absolute, unshakable faith that my abilities will be able to control the creature long enough for us to devise a strategy. There's something else, and this comes from logic."

He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. "Because I'm programmed to respond to the trigger words, I have to be the one to kill it."

" _Da_. I can assist, but the killing blow must come from you." The mist emanating from her hands grew, spreading like a red oil slick in the air until it surrounded the hydra. The creature didn't like that at all. It roared, and clawed at the barrier, even slammed its heads against it.

"Sword and fire!" Bucky exclaimed. "The myth states that it was his nephew, Iolaus who came up with the idea to scorch the neck stumps after each decapitation to prevent the heads from growing back."

Nodding in agreement, Wanda adjusted her position to cover a portion of the barrier that had become thin, shoring it up. She wouldn't be able to continue for much longer, considering that her body was in a cryogenic state. If she were conscious, the story would be different. Here, she didn't have the physical energy reserves to draw on. Only the mental. "So, the plan is for you to cut off the head, and I will seal the stump with fire."

"And once that's done, the last head, the immortal one, has to be crushed under a giant rock."

Exhaling long and loud, Wanda nodded. "Too bad you can't just step on it."

"Right." Now that the thought was in his head, he wondered, _Why not?_

 **Bellona's Bistro**

As the last note of the song faded, the audience applauded. Cameron glanced over at Clint, and nodded. There was a chorus of requests for another song, and Clint gave in without much convincing.

"This is another classic I'm sure you all know the words to, so go ahead and sing along. The lyrics encourage us to imagine a world at peace, without the barriers of borders, or the divisions of religion and nationality. It asks us to consider the possibility that the focus of humanity should be living a life unattached to material possessions, without politics, and to imagine that there's nothing in this world that divides us. It's called _Imagine_."

 _Imagine there's no heaven_ _  
_ _It's easy if you try_ _  
_ _No hell below us_ _  
_ _Above us only sky_ _  
_ _Imagine all the people living for today_

 _Imagine there's no countries  
It isn't hard to do  
Nothing to kill or die for  
And no religion too  
Imagine all the people living life in peace_

 _You may say I'm a dreamer  
But I'm not the only one  
I hope someday you'll join us  
And the world will be as one_

 _Imagine no possessions  
I wonder if you can  
No need for greed or hunger  
A brotherhood of man  
Imagine all the people sharing all the world_

Playing the final notes, Cameron once again glanced at Clint, who was taking a well-deserved bow. He could see Hill staring at him with the strangest look on her face. If she had anything to say, he'd hear about it later, whether or not they spent the night together.

The phone in his back pocket vibrated, startling him. He pulled it out, scrolling through the alert he'd set up.

~~O~~

No one seemed to notice that Cameron was staring at his phone or the strange look on his face. He motioned Clint over. The two men spoke urgently for several seconds. Clint took off the guitar, and handed it back to Hanif. The two men jumped off the stage, and left the restaurant without a word.

Hill tapped Natasha on the shoulder. "What's _that_ about?"

One shoulder shrugged. "Whatever it is, Clint'll tell me eventually. And I'm sure Cameron will do the same for you." A buzz drew Natasha's attention to her phone lying on the table. She read the message, and leaned over to speak with Steve. He passed the message onto Scott. They all finished their drinks, and stood. Natasha and Scott were already on the way to the door.

Sam moved over to the seat next to Hill. To stop the inevitable questions, she held up her hand. "Don't know. But we're going to find out."

Hill signaled for the server, paid the check, and the two companions headed back to the compound, making for the cryolab. There they found their friends stationed outside the room where Bucky's cryotube had been moved. Through the window, they could see Wanda and Bucky still huddled together inside the tube. Though the alarms had been silenced, Hill could see that their vital signs were dangerously high.

"What's going on?" she asked no one in particular.

Steve crossed his arms without taking his eyes from the monitors. "Not sure. There was a sudden increase in their vital signs, and brain function. If I had to guess, I'd say they're fighting the last of the trigger words, and it's not going the way they hoped."

~~O~~

As a reminder that he had a stake in the outcome of Wanda's experiment, Scott moved in between Steve and Natasha, arms crossed, and chewing on one thumbnail. He had so many questions for the doctor, but didn't want to interrupt her concentration.

Kaya had gone into the room, and shut everyone out. Moving from the computer to the monitor, to the cryotube itself, she kept her features in that unreadable mask doctors effected to ease the fears of the patient's loved ones when they had no answers for their questions.

Unable to stand still, Scott paced while rubbing his hands together. Eventually, Hill, and Sam left the area. Clint and Cameron hadn't shown, and Scott was too worried about Wanda to care what they were up to.

 **Cameron's Room**

Clint followed Cameron into his room. The tech tossed his jacket on the bed, sat down at the computer, and booted up the facial recognition program he'd been running. Clint grabbed a chair, turned it around, and straddled the seat, watching the tech's fingers fly over the keys. One last click and a line flashed on the right-hand side.

 _384 potential matches_

Cameron tabbed to a specific field, narrating as he worked. "I'm further filtering the results to get them down to a manageable number. If I eliminate those who have biological family who are living, and concentrate on those who are adopted, that brings the number down to less than fifty."

"Remove those who are serving time." More tapping and the number came down to twenty-three. Clint made a grunt of annoyance. "There must be a way to shrink the list even more."

"That's pretty much it." He didn't want to say it out loud, but there was no other way, unless they wanted to sit here and look at each individual's stats. "Do any of them live in or near Vancouver, B.C.?" Cameron did his magic, and the list was down to three names. Clint pointed. "That one."

The one Clint indicated enlarged, the photo of a young man with curly brown hair taking up most of the right side, while the information sorted itself out on the left.

 _Name: Clancy, Taylor_

 _DOB: 8 August 1995_

 _Current Residence: 4321 Orange Blossom Rd, Vancouver, B.C. V6A5Z4_

 _Phone number 604-555-1508_

 _No criminal record_

 _No driving history_

 _No credit history_

 _Current Employment:_ Virtuosity fulfillment clerk, late night shift

 _Has checking account with RBC Royal Bank of Canada, but no credit history_

 _Adopted from Romania at the age of six by the Clancy family: Clancy, Adam (father), Clancy, Julia (mother), Clancy, Ryan (brother), Clancy, Quinn (sister). No other family._

"Now compare Taylor Clancy's photo with Pietro Maximoff's."

Cameron frowned, his forehead crinkling in confusion. "But he died on…"

Suddenly impatient with the tech, Clint interrupted. "I _know_ when he died, Klein. Just do it."

Photos of the two men appeared side by side while the facial recognition program ran a comparison. Upon completion, the program gave the results, the words blinking in green.

 _88% positive match_

Clint only had one word that fit the situation. "S***!" He pushed out of the chair, and returned it to the table. At the door, he looked over his shoulder at Cameron. "Not a word to anyone, Klein. Not even Hill, and especially not Romanoff. Got it?"

Not waiting for Cameron's agreement, Clint left the room, and made his way to the cryolab, taking his place near the back of the group. Natasha noticed his arrival, and moved to his side. "Where did you and Cam go?"

"Working on a special project."

"Can I get a hint?"

Kaya came to the window, and gave them a thumbs up. Clint turned around, and headed for the door. "Nope."

 **An Undisclosed Location**

A group of men and women huddled in front of the monitor, listening raptly to the man pacing in front of a white board. It was low tech, but better for his use than a tablet or laptop.

"…the weapons have already been smuggled into Wakanda. Now that King T'Challa is allowing tourists into the country, we can move forward with our plans.

"In the folders you each hold in your hands, you will find a current passport, along with other documents to solidify your assumed identity. Credit cards, birth certificates, and so forth. For the first few days, you will play tourist. Sightsee, purchase souvenirs, take photos. When the time is right, you will receive instructions where to meet for the final briefing, and the mission will begin."

His hair was short and dark, brown eyes peered from under bushy eyebrows, and his muscles bulged in all the places they should, though his stomach bulged slightly, most likely from his love of beer. His beard covered the entire lower half of his face, having been allowed to grow unchecked with no attempt at taming or shaping the curly hairs. In America, the tank shirt was called a wife-beater, untucked over a pair of faded camouflage pants.

"If we are to execute the operation without mishaps, it must go exactly according to the plan laid out." He paused for dramatic effect. "Dismissed."

The monitor went black, and those present moved into their assigned groups. Their leader rapped on the table to get their attention. "Study the information on your assumed identities, and work together on your cover stories. There must be no mistakes, or the coup is doomed to failure before it begins. Over the next couple of weeks, each of you will be tested, and those found lacking will be removed."

The leader didn't have to elaborate. They all knew that removal from the mission equaled a death sentence.

 **United Nations**

 **New York City**

Moving through the UN General Assembly building, T'Challa smiled blandly at those who welcomed him and his personal bodyguards, Imani and Tafari. They weren't necessary, as he was quite capable of taking care of himself. However, as king, he was expected to have an entourage. He was also expected to begin producing heirs.

The Dora Milaje, in addition to functioning as his bodyguards, provided him with a pool from which to choose a potential mate. T'Challa, however, preferred the old-fashioned method of marrying for love. At one time or another, he'd spoken to each of the Dora Milaje, engaging them in casual conversation. In his opinion, none of them were wife and mother material. They were attractive enough, and quite skilled at their jobs, but there was no sense of a maternal bond, possibly due to being orphaned at young ages. He got no sense that these women would be nurturing.

Twisting his ring, the one that had been passed down from king to king for untold generations, T'Challa came to a stop in front of a door with the name Dr. Abdu Hawa engraved on the plaque to the right. He knocked, and was admitted by a dour-faced woman.

"Please come in, your highness. My name is Sylvia." She cast a wary glance at Imani and Tafari who'd stationed themselves in the hallway, went to an inner door, knocked once, and opened it without waiting for an invitation. "Dr. Hawa? He's here."

The man behind the desk came around to greet T'Challa with a huge smile, and a hug. "It is good to see you again, nephew."

"And you, uncle." The men seated themselves on the leather sofa near the bookshelves.

To his assistant, Abdu said, "Would you bring us some coffee please, Sylvia?" The woman, forty-ish, and plain, though stylishly dressed, nodded and closed the door behind her. "You're looking well. Being king agrees with you."

T'Challa unbuttoned his jacket, leaned back, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Though the crew did most of the work, the flight from Wakanda to New York was long, and tiring."

The door opened, and Sylvia returned with an elegant tray holding a thermal carafe, two cups with saucers, sugar, cream, and a plate of delicate pastries. She left again without saying a word.

Abdu poured coffee into the cups, passed one to T'Challa, and kept the other for himself. "Your aunt will be happy to see you. Though she speaks to Kaya several times a week, Jamila will no doubt ask many questions about our daughter. She does not believe that she is providing full disclosure of her personal activities."

T'Challa sipped the coffee, and set the cup back in the saucer. "Kaya is well. She is highly respected in her field, and has many friends. And she is dating a man to whom she is devoted."

"She's mentioned him on several occasions. I gather that this man Steven is not Wakandan, and has only been in the country a short time. Did he come for work? From where does he hail? Kaya has told us nothing except that she and Steven spend much of their free time together."

"That is a subject for another time and place, uncle." The monarch could see in his uncle's eyes that he understood that the walls could have ears, and what he had to say was only for the family to hear. He looked at his watch. "The conference is due to begin soon, and we have much to discuss before then."

The older man nodded, and reached for the carafe to refill both their cups. "Matters of the state take precedence over matters of the heart, eh?"

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

 **The Clancy Home**

 **Midnight**

The light in the bathroom went out, and Julia opened the door, yawning as she returned to bed. One hand lifted the covers, and let them drop. _Can't hurt to check on the kids one more time_.

She went into Quinn's room, nearly tripping over a pair of shoes, and a pile of clothes. Shaking her head, Julia put the shoes in the closet, and carried the dirty clothes to the laundry chute.

Ryan left his door open about three inches every night. Said he wanted to get used to doing it in case they ever got a cat. The boy had been stating his case for having a pet since he turned four. Julia thought it had to do with having a new baby in the family because it started around the time Quinn was born. However, eight years later, he still wanted a cat. They'd discuss it at the next family meeting.

Outside Taylor's door, Julia hesitated. He was twenty-one, and had a full-time job. More than capable of living on his own. He didn't need a mother checking up on him, but to ease her own mind, she did it anyway.

Taylor was on his stomach, the covers kicked off, and snoring lightly. She crept into the room, gently pulled the blanket loose from where it had caught under his foot, and covered him. His features were serene in repose. Julia brushed at the hairs over his ears where the brown was already turning silver again, and touched his cheek. At the contact, he stirred in his sleep, and Julia quickly left the room so he wouldn't be embarrassed that she'd been watching him without his knowledge.

She covered a yawn with the back of her hand as she padded down the hall to the room she shared with Adam, closed the door, and got into bed. Her husband was such a sound sleeper, he never even moved.

~~O~~

The alarm rang, waking Julia from a dream she didn't remember. She sat up on the side of the bed, and reached over to shake Adam awake. "Time to get up, honey."

Her husband mumbled, and rolled over facing her. With a grin, he grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her back into bed with him, cuddling her close. "Five more minutes, babe."

"Taylor's making breakfast today. His infamous stuffed French toast and sausage."

"Worth getting out of bed early on a Saturday." Adam gave Julia a kiss, tossed back the covers, and sat up, sniffing the air. "I don't smell anything cooking."

By now, Julia could hear Ryan and Quinn arguing over the bathroom, and whose turn it was to go first. The door slammed, and that was it, for the moment. Puzzled, Julia pushed her feet into slippers, and jogged downstairs to see if Taylor needed a hand.

On the first floor, she stopped, turning her head to the side, thinking she'd heard something, dismissing it as her imagination. Julia rubbed a hand through her hair, and turned toward the kitchen.

As she passed the living room, her eyes flew open wide. She ran to Taylor, going down on her knees at his side. Once she'd rolled him onto his back so he could breathe properly, she looked around, spying a cell phone on the coffee table. She picked it up, and dialed 9-1-1. "My name is Dr. Julia Clancy. My address is 4321 Orange Blossom Rd, Vancouver. My son is unconscious. I think he's had a seizure." She tossed the phone on the floor, calling out, "Adam!"

He ran downstairs, followed by the kids. They rushed to Taylor, asking a multitude of questions while she did a cursory exam. Soon, sirens could be heard coming down their street, and stopping in front of the house.

"Ryan, go let them in." Julia's words were clipped, spoken in what Adam called her doctor voice. Meant to be obeyed without question.

The boy ran to the door, and came back just ahead of the paramedics wheeling a stretcher laden with equipment.

Adam drew Quinn out of the way, and Ryan joined them in the dining room doorway.

The woman quickly and cleanly inserted an IV while the man took Taylor's vital signs. "What's his name?"

"Taylor. He's twenty-one. No known allergies. The only meds he's taken are OTC for headaches. Over the last few weeks, he's been having mild seizures, but he's only lost consciousness once. I tried to get him to go to the doctor, but he was waiting for his medical insurance to kick in at work. Didn't want to be a burden on us. Not sure what he ate last. Dinner, maybe. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, vegetables, chocolate cake. He doesn't drink alcohol, that I know of."

The man affixed the heart and EEG monitors. "Are the seizures a new phenomenon, or does he have a history of them?"

She glanced at Adam. Two people to whom you should never lie are your lawyer or your doctor, so she told a partial truth. "We don't know. He's adopted."

The woman nodded to the man, and together, they lifted Taylor onto the stretcher as Julia held the front door open. "Where are you taking him?"

"Mercy General."

"We'll meet you there."

The woman got in the back of the ambulance with Taylor, the man closed the doors, and went around to get behind the wheel. The ambulance pulled away from the curb with its lights flashing, but no siren. That was a good sign.

The family joined her on the front porch, watching until the ambulance had turned the corner. Adam sighed. "Let's get dressed, and get to the hospital. We'll stop for drive-thru on the way."

Quinn clutched at Julia, her little girl eyes wide with fear. "Tay's gonna be okay, isn't he, Mom? Please don't let him die!"

Julia hugged the girl, her eyes catching those of her husband. "We'll have to see what the doctors say."

"But _you're_ a doctor! Don't you know?"

"Oh, honey. I'm a different kind of doctor, a psychologist. The ones at the hospital are the best to handle whatever's wrong with Taylor." She wiped Quinn's tears, and gave her a confident smile. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Now you and Ryan go get dressed so we can go to the hospital."

Once the kids were out of earshot, Adam gripped Julia's hand. "We might have to tell them the truth, Jules."

She nodded, and together, they went upstairs. Within a few minutes, the family had piled into Adam's SUV, and were on their way to the hospital.

 **Wakanda**

 **The Cryolab**

Holding the tablet in his left hand, Cameron stopped just inside the door to the cryolab. Most of his friends were sitting or standing around watching the monitor, and awaiting word on Wanda and Bucky. And while he too was worried for the pair, he had other things on his mind.

Clint was sitting on the floor with his knees up, rubbing his hands together. Cameron caught his eye, and tilted his head to indicate they needed to speak in private.

The archer caught up with him in the hallway. "What's up?"

"I did some more digging into the life of Taylor Clancy." Cameron scrolled to the pertinent information. "He was found unconscious in a park in Bucharest. No ID, and no memory of who he is, and none of the missing persons in the area matched his description.

"After the doctors determined he had no organic issues that would've caused the amnesia, he was sent to the Bucharest Mental Health Institute for observation and a psychological evaluation with a psychologist by the name of Julia Clancy. She determined that he had no underlying mental problems such as schizophrenia or bipolar disorder."

"What was she doing in Romania?"

They kept walking while Cameron scrolled to the next page. "The primary reason she and her family were in Romania was that her daughter was receiving experimental treatment for a form of cancer that affects children under the age of ten. The treatment worked, and she's in remission. And second, Dr. Clancy put her time in between her daughter's treatments to good use by accepting a temporary teaching position at the hospital where she just happened to be the doctor on call when Taylor was brought in.

"He was released within a week. However, because he had nowhere to go, Dr. Clancy offered him a place to stay. When the family returned to Vancouver, he went with them. Adam Clancy, the husband, holds a high-level position with a company that works exclusively for the Canadian government. Through his contacts, he was able to procure documents saying that they'd adopted Taylor from Romania at the age of six."

The tablet beeped. Cameron minimized the page to read the incoming message. He took too long, and Clint poked him on the arm.

"What now?"

"Taylor's been admitted to Mercy General Hospital in Vancouver." Clint's expression fell into his bland mask, the one he used to hide his emotions. He gestured for Cameron to continue. "His mother, uh, Dr. Clancy found him unconscious on the living room floor. The ER doctor's notes indicate that he's had a recent history of seizures, and has ordered a battery of tests to locate the cause."

Clint took the tablet, read the material, and passed it back. "Keep this between us for now."

"Sir, shouldn't we tell Agent Romanoff?"

"Tell me what?" The two men turned at the sound of Natasha's angry voice as she came up behind them. "Why're the two of you being so secretive? What don't you want me to know?"

 **TBC**

 _Imagine_ is a song written and performed by the English musician John Lennon, released in October 1971.


	37. Ten Rounds with Jose Cuervo

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 _Take life with a grain of salt, a slice of lime, and a shot of tequila_.

~ Unknown

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Ten Rounds with Jose Cuervo**

 **United Nations**

 **New York City**

After seeing his aunt and uncle off at the airport, T'Challa returned to the UN building, and had been in meetings ever since. Tedious, to be sure, but necessary now that Wakanda had opened themselves up to the world. Getting in was still a process, though the ruling council was working on a way to shorten the timeframe.

The night before, T'Challa had gone to dinner at his family's home, and as Abdu had predicted, Aunt Jamila had grilled him on Kaya's relationship with Steve. He told them as little as possible, preferring that they meet him before making any sort of judgments. Steve was a fugitive, after all.

One night, when neither of the men could sleep, T'Challa and Steve had a long conversation concerning the Accords, and why the monarch still supported them. He believed the Accords were necessary, though he hadn't approved of how Ross chose to implement them, especially with regards to the Avengers.

T'Challa pushed all thoughts of a personal nature aside, as yet another foreign leader got up to speak, doing his best to feign interest in the subject. He didn't know how his uncle did this all day, every day without going mad. Add that to the fact that Secretary Ross hadn't returned his phone calls, and it was a recipe for dissention. If he didn't hear back from Ross by the end of the day, perhaps a personal visit to his office or home would do the trick. Ross could hardly put him off if confronted in person.

 **Mercy General Hospital**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

A fortyish Asian man in blue scrubs, and carrying a tablet stopped in the doorway of the waiting room. "Taylor Clancy."

Nearly asleep, the Clancys were startled to full wakefulness. The kids rushed to the doctor demanding to know how Taylor was doing.

Adam pulled them back. "Settle down, and let the doctor talk."

"How is he, doctor?" Julia asked for all of them.

"Better than when he first arrived. He's awake, and his vitals are normal. There are a number of tests we'd like to do in order to discover why he's having the seizures, and why they're increasing in severity. That we don't have access to his familial history will make it difficult to reach a diagnosis."

Julia exchanged a puzzled glance with Adam. "Taylor is twenty-one, and has his own medical insurance through his job. Why do you need parental consent?"

The doctor huffed. "We _don't_. But we do need _his_ consent, and he won't agree to the tests until he speaks to you, Dr. Clancy." His eyes took in each of member of the family. "All of you. Even the children."

~~O~~

Lying in bed with the head raised, Taylor closed his eyes, listening to the steady beep, beep, beep of the monitor. Upon regaining consciousness, the nurse told him how he ended up in the hospital, and he told the man everything he remembered, which wasn't much.

Taylor had the night off, and had gone to bed early because of a headache. What he couldn't tell them is how he'd gotten to the living room where Julia found him. He had no memory of leaving his room.

There was a knock at the door. He opened his eyes, and sat up. "Come in." The Clancys cautiously entered the room, watching him for some sign that he was okay. Taylor opened his arms, and the kids ran to his bedside for a hug. Quinn climbed up and sat next to him, and he put his arm around her. "Sorry to cause so much trouble."

Julia came to his side, taking hold of his hand. "It's no trouble, Tay. We're just glad you're feeling better."

Adam stood at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets, and an expression of mild disapproval. "The doctor says you won't agree to the tests. What're you waiting for?"

"I wanted to see all of you first, and have Julia tell me which are necessary, and which are not."

Julia's hand smoothed down his hair, making Taylor feel loved, and cared for. He knew they loved him, but it was good to have confirmation once in a while. "Start with the MRI, EEG, and blood work. Depending on the results, the spinal tap may not be necessary, or there may be other tests the doctors will want to do. They just want to find out why you're having the seizures, and this will help form a treatment schedule."

He nodded acceptance of Julia's explanation. "Adam, would you call work, and let them know I will out for a few days."

"Of course. What should I tell them?"

"Tell them I have the flu, or a cold. I don't want them to know about the seizures just yet."

Another knock on the door, and a woman came in without waiting to be invited. "Taylor Clancy? My name is Evelyn Dooley. I'm a patient advocate." She showed him the clipboard. "When you're available, I'd like to go over the tests that the doctors would like to perform, and get them scheduled. We'll also talk about your insurance coverage."

Adam stepped forward. "Adam Clancy. Taylor's our son." He motioned to Julia. "We'll pay anything that the insurance doesn't cover. Just let us know."

Taylor huffed loudly. "Do not listen to him, Ms. Dooley. I'm capable of taking care of myself."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "We can discuss that later. I'll come back after lunch."

When she'd gone, Taylor crossed his arms, and lifted his chin, preparing for an argument.

Julia cut him off with a slash of her hand. "We're your family. And families do for each other."

Not knowing if he had any other family, Taylor accepted Julia's statement without comment. "So, did you bring me something to read, a game to play, anything so I don't have to watch television all day?"

 **Wakanda**

 **The Residential Wing**

Arms crossed, and one foot tapping the floor, Natasha glanced from Cameron to Clint. The tech looked guilty, while Clint was annoyed. At getting caught keeping secrets from his best friend, or that she'd interrupted them, she couldn't tell. "Who wants to go first?"

At the same time, the men pointed at each other. "He does."

Rolling her eyes, Natasha darted forward to snatch the tablet from Cameron's hand. "What's this?"

Again, the men exchanged glances, Clint nodding once. They continued on to Cameron's room, and belatedly, Natasha followed them. She took the chair at the table, waiting impatiently while the tech booted up his computer.

Clint sat on the side of the bed, and held her hand. "I didn't want to say anything until I was sure."

"Sure of what? Clint, what's going on?"

Over his shoulder, Clint said, "Show her."

The results of the facial recognition program came up showing the side by side comparison of her son, Pietro, and a boy by the name of Taylor Clancy. "So he looks like Pietro. What of it?"

"That's not all, ma'am," Cameron told her as the photos vanished, to be replaced by a short video. It showed a young man catching Clint's daughter as she fell. He tied her shoes, and she went back to Laura. One second, she was falling, and the next, he was there, keeping Lila from getting hurt.

"We've located several clips from traffic and security cameras in the same general area." Cameron played the clips one after the other. In each, there was a strange blur. The other people in the clips didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. He tapped a few keys, and the last video reversed to the beginning, and stopped. "I'm going to play it one frame at a time."

As the frames advanced, a young man moved into sight, crossed the screen, and was gone. Without being asked, Cameron reversed the video, and stopped it on one particular frame. The young man was looking over his shoulder, and his face could be clearly seen.

Natasha's hand clenched on Clint's, and he endured the pain. He inhaled, and exhaled slowly. "Nat, according to Klein's program, there's an eighty-eight percent chance that Taylor Clancy and Pietro Maximoff are one and the same."

Her mouth dropped open, but no words would come out. She cleared her throat, speaking barely above a whisper, "But how can that be? He _died_. I saw the body myself. He-He… M-my son was _dead_. There were no vital signs."

"I don't know." Clint stood, his expression changing from sympathetic to resolute. "But we're going to find out."

 **The Castle**

Kaya waited impatiently as a car pulled up in front of the mansion. One of the staff opened the back door, extending a hand to Jamila while Abdu got out the other side. The driver opened the trunk, and the staff member helped take out the luggage and carry it inside.

Opening her arms, Kaya gathered her mother into a tight embrace. "Welcome home! It's so good to see you, Mother." She did the same to Abdu. "And you, Father." Taking them by the hands, she led them inside. "How was your trip?"

"Exhausting," Jamila told her as they moved into the sitting room. It was enormous by the standards of most of the world's population. But for the home of the monarchy who had occupied it for untold generations, it was considered small.

They passed through the room, and Kaya opened the patio doors with a flourish. "There's iced tea and lemonade to drink. If you're hungry, I'm sure the cook would be happy to make you something."

Her father unbuttoned his jacket as he sat heavily in the chair to his wife's right. Kaya filled a glass with ice, poured lemonade over it, and passed it to him. Then she did the same for her mother, and herself.

"We ate on the plane. Perhaps a snack before bedtime." He urged her to sit by pulling out her chair. "We are anxious to hear about Steven. Tell us, what is he like?"

Kaya's smiled, and reached for her glass. "He's intelligent, handsome, kind, loving, compassionate. I could go on, but you'll get a chance to see for yourself. He'll be joining us soon." There was a loud two-toned bong that echoed through the castle. "There he is. I know you wanted to get settled in first, but I have patients in cryo to monitor, and must return to the hospital within the hour." Her smile faded. "One of the patients is Steven's best friend. The other is a good friend of his. When I leave, he will go with me."

Her mother gripped her hand. "I'm so sorry to hear that, child."

Footsteps let them know that they would soon have a visitor. The servant motioned, and Steve stepped out the door. He looked so handsome in the Wakandan clothing he chose to wear. Black pants, and jacket, with a dark turquoise shirt left open at the collar. He'd also shaved, and cut his hair. Kaya got up to greet him with a kiss. Taking his arm, she drew him over to the table. "Mother, Father, I would like you to meet Steve Rogers. Steven, these are my parents, Jamila and Abdu Hawa."

Though they hid it well, Kaya could tell that her parents were shocked. And she admitted her herself that she could have better prepared for this meeting by showing them a photo of Steven beforehand, and mentioning that he was not Wakandan.

In the Wakandan tradition, Steve presented himself to her mother first, taking her hand, and bowing over it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Hawa." He turned to her father, extending his hand. Abdu stood, and the men shook hands. "And you, Dr. Hawa. Kaya speaks of you often."

The formal greeting sounded odd coming from Steve, a bit awkward. Kaya held his arm, and smiled up at him. "Please sit, Steven. What would you care to drink?"

"Whatever you're having is fine, Kaya." He removed his arm, and held her chair. "I'll get it. Lemonade, right?"

Kaya's parents exchanged a look that she knew all too well. In their culture, the host served the guests, and that was _her_ job. However, she'd spent so much time with Steve and his friends, that some of the smaller courtesies had taken on less importance. Steve believed that women should be waited on by their man. He always treated her as such, and she accepted that it would always be that way with him. But to her parents, who were of a different generation and preferred the traditions of their people when at home, it was an insult, albeit, and mild one.

Abdu, used to dealing with people of other races, nationalities, and cultures, recovered first. "Tell me, Steven, what is it you do?"

Injecting a warning tone into her voice, Kaya said, "We talked about this, Father. He and his friends are T'Challa's guests."

"I understand, but surely he has a profession, Kaya. You should let the man speak for himself."

The tense atmosphere became more so when Steve took her hand. "I'm… unemployed."

~~O~~

In their room later that night, Abdu set up his laptop, connected to the wi-fi, and opened a browser just as his wife came out of the ensuite wearing her favorite green satin pajamas.

"What are you doing?" Her tone was that of one who knows her spouse is up to something.

"I want to know more about this Steven Rogers, so I'm looking him up online." He quickly typed the name, and hit enter. He clicked on the first record, an ongoing ZNN news story.

Jamila pulled a chair up next to him, reading over his shoulder. "Oh, my God, Abdu. Our daughter is in love with an international fugitive!"

 **The Cryolab**

Wielding two flaming swords, Wanda prepared to perform her part: the cauterizing of the neck stump. Thankfully, they were nearly done. She and Bucky hadn't discussed how he would deal the killing blow to the immortal head, though after they'd spoken about the myth of dropping a rock on it, he'd had a thoughtful gleam in his eyes.

Bucky launched himself off of one of the boulders onto freight car's back. With the loss of each successive beheading, the creature had fought harder against its impending death. It bucked, rising up on its hind legs, the forelegs clawing the air, roaring, screaming, and spitting fire.

In lieu of the hazmat suits, Bucky had willed them to be impervious to the flames, and Wanda admitted that it had been an excellent idea.

Bucky dug his knees in, scooting forward until he could reach the closest neck. He flipped his sword around, and grasped the blade, pulling it tightly against the creature's throat. "Ready?" he shouted.

"Yes!" Wanda ran toward the hydra, made a pushing motion at the ground that sent her into the air. Bucky pulled hard on the sword, cleanly severing the neck. Before the head could hit the ground, Wanda pressed both flaming swords to the stump, searing it closed before two heads could grow back. She floated back down to the ground, and backed away from the remaining head.

Somehow, Bucky had remained on the creature's back. The loss of blood and six of its seven heads had weakened it considerably, but it wasn't ready to give up the fight.

To her surprise, Bucky pushed himself backward so that he slid down _gruzovoy avtomobil's_ back, jumping free before the tail could take him down. He swaggered over to her, stuck the tip of the sword in the ground, and bowed as Wanda applauded. "Bravo!"

"You deserve it too, _moya doch'_. This is your op as much as mine."

Two comfortable chairs appeared, and they sat down for a short rest, watching _gruzovoy avtomobil'_ squat on its haunches, no doubt gathering strength. "Have you thought of a way to destroy the immortal head?"

Bucky grinned, and tapped the side of his head. "Been thinkin' on it, and believe I've come up with a plan, which I'm _not_ going to share, in case it's a dud." He stood, and held out his hand. "Let's get this over with, doll."

~~O~~

"We're gonna do this just like all the rest. I'll cut off the head, and you burn the stump."

Wanda gripped his hand, and smiled. "Once you've killed it, how long do you think before those on the outside realize that we're ready to be brought out of cryo?"

Bucky shrugged. "Dunno. We'll figure it out, doll."

His daughter had done him proud during the trials, and he wondered how she would take the news that he and Natasha were her biological parents. That they should do it together was a given.

The area around Wanda shimmered, and when it cleared, she was wearing a tank on her back, and holding a nozzle in her right hand. He must've been staring, because she grinned sheepishly. "I want to make certain it doesn't get a chance to grow two more heads."

He chuckled, and picked up his sword. "A flamethrower oughta do it."

"On your mark."

To slow the beast further, Bucky ran forward to stab it through the heart. The remaining head howled, and screamed as its legs gave out, and it collapsed in front of them. "Mark!"

Getting a running start, Bucky again leapt off the boulder onto the creature's back. The remaining head roared louder than ever before, almost as if it knew what was about to happen, that it was going to die. Without the other heads to get in the way, he could swing the sword and slice through the neck without a problem.

The head flew up, and over Wanda as she advanced on the creature, holding the flamethrower's nozzle like a machine gun. She squeezed the trigger, and a stream of fire spit out the end, burning the last stump, and most of the surrounding scales.

By this time, Bucky had dismounted, and circled around to the head. The thing alternated between roaring, howling and screeching. The headless body stumbled, and fell onto its side where it lay twitching and jerking for a long time. Then finally, it was still.

Wanda looked down at the headless carcass, and kicked it with the toe of her boot. "Not so scary without your heads, are you?"

Bucky picked the head up by the spines that ran along the scalp and back of the head. "Time for you to die." He concentrated hard, and bit by bit, the head shrank down to the size of a mouse.

"Cool. How are you going to kill it?"

"Like this… Hail HYDRA, b****!" Bucky dropped the head on the ground, lifted his right foot, and stepped on it, wincing at the awful squishing sound it made.

"Oh, God," Wanda choked out. "That's disgusting."

He shrugged, and looked smug. "Well, it worked."

The flamethrower disappeared, and so did the forest, the squashed head, and the dead dragon, replaced by the same sports bar setting they visited before. On the table in front of them were ice cold pitchers of beer. He poured a glass for each of them, and held his up, and Wanda did the same. "To us."

"To us," Wanda echoed. "We make a great team."

"That we do." Bucky finished off the beer, and poured himself another. "I wonder… If I believe hard enough that I can get drunk, would I then get drunk?"

His companion pursed her lips, thinking. "Can't hurt to try. And so you won't be drunk alone, I will do so as well."

~~O~~

Due to her erratic vital signs, Scott chose to stay in the cryolab with Natasha, Clint, and Steve. Sometimes, he got restless, and would go for a walk, but he always came back. And like his friends, he hadn't slept in his room in days.

He was about to doze off again when the alarms went off, jolting him to full wakefulness. Natasha had left on an errand that involved Clint and Cameron, so he was alone with just the medical staff for company.

Scott rushed to the window that looked into the room housing the cryotube, pressing his hands against the glass, watching Kaya's relief urgently attending his charges. He shut off the alarms, and injected something into Wanda and Bucky's IVs that helped their vital signs stabilize.

Kaya had taken a couple of hours' respite in order to greet her parents when they came from New York for a visit. She'd encouraged Steve to join her so he could meet her parents. Scott wondered how that was going, but only peripherally. His thoughts and concerns were for Wanda, and when they would see each other again.

The monitor stopped flashing, and soon, Bucky and Wanda's vitals returned to normal. The doctor came out, gave Scott a confident smile, and went to the nurse's station. The man spoke very little English, so it was useless to question him.

She might find it odd, or maybe not, knowing how he felt about her, but Scott wished with all he had that he'd been the one to enter Bucky's mind instead of Wanda. He would do almost anything to keep her safe. Unfortunately, his skills weren't on a par with hers, and that left him on the outside looking in, literally.

Scott's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the night before. _I'll just run down to the cafeteria, and come right back_.

By the time he returned, Kaya and Steve were back, and their attitudes had changed from edge-of-your-seat to one of immense relief. Staying out of their sight, he sidled up to the window, and he too felt relief. Wanda and Bucky's vital signs were below normal instead of the fear-inducing highs they'd been experiencing since Wanda had gone into cryo.

That meant they'd be coming out soon, right?

 **Two Hours Later…**

For their celebration of the defeat of the trigger words, Bucky and Wanda switched from beer to tequila, which resulted in the pair becoming so drunk they could no longer stand. Everything they said or did made them laugh.

Bucky motioned the server over. "We need somethin' to eat, dollface. Burgers, fries, cold slaw, some o' those kwess-a-deellia thingies."

"And hot wings!" Wanda added loudly, waving her shot glass in the air. At Bucky's shocked stare, she explained. "Iz Clint's fault. Wheneber I bisit his fam-(hic) fambly, he takes me to…" she fluttered her fingers in the air, "…that place in town. We play games, drink beer, 'n eat food. An' you know what? Sometimes, he even shings wit da band. But don' tell no one. He likes t' keep it shecret he c'n shing."

Bucky mimed zipping his mouth. "Not a word, _moya doch'_."

Wanda licked the skin between her thumb and index finger, and sprinkled a bit of salt on it. She licked the salt, tossed back the shot of tequila, slammed the shot glass on the table, and quickly sucked on a lime wedge. She shook her head, and her eyes squeezed shut. "Whoa! Tequila mockingbird!" Her face scrunched in thought, she planted her elbow on the table, and dropped her chin into it. "I been wonderin' somethin', Bucky-boy."

"Wuzzat?" Bucky had three shot glasses lined up in front of him. He picked up the first one, swirled, and sniffed it as if it were fine brandy before drinking it down. The second glass has just chased the first when the food arrived. He grabbed a hot wing, giving it a curious sniff.

"All dis time I been in yer head, you been callin' me 'doll'. An' at first, I din't like it. But after a whilst, I din't mind it so much." Her free hand dipped into the basket of wings, and came out with one covered in orange sauce. "But now," she took a bite, talking around the food, "yer callin' me 'my daughter'. Whyzat?"

Bucky's mouth was full of fries with ketchup. He chewed, swallowed, and wiped his mouth on the tail of his shirt. He mirrored her position with his elbow on the table, and waved the other hand. "Psht! That's shimple to 'splain." Wanda handed him another full shot glass. He brought it to his mouth as he mumbled, "I'm your father."

 **TBC**

 _Ten Rounds with José Cuervo_ is a song recorded by American country music artist Tracy Byrd, and was released in April 2002.


	38. Alone in a Rising Ocean

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Alone in a Rising Ocean**

Gripping her husband's arm, Jamila let out a sigh. "Captain America and his friends are fugitives in one hundred and seventeen countries, including their own. T'Challa himself made it a sacred duty to hunt down and capture the man he felt was responsible for the death of T'Chakka, vowing to let no one and nothing stand in the way of bringing James Barnes to justice."

"You heard the Secretary-General's news conference. Barnes has been cleared of all charges concerning the attack on the UN, and the death of T'Chakka."

Jamila got to her feet so she could pace. "Regardless, Barnes, Rogers, and the ones who were broken out of prison are still considered criminals in the eyes of the law. There's been a rumor that, to me, has the ring of being at least partially true. That Tony Stark, Barnes and Rogers engaged in a fight nearly to the death, and that Barnes was badly injured."

She knew her husband was thinking along the same lines. It was in his eyes, and the way he rested his finger against his chin in thought. "If Rogers is here, Barnes is here as well. He's Kaya's patient."

"With Rogers, Barnes, and the others being given political sanctuary in Wakanda, does that mean our nephew will revoke his support of the Sokovian Accords?"

Abdu shook his head. "I do not believe so. My sister's son is smarter than to bring down the wrath of the UN countries on ours. In my opinion, to do so would cause other world leaders to question the validity of such a document."

"I agree. The words 'World War Three' come to mind."

Before she even finished, Abdu was shaking his head. "That's unlikely. Though it could cause great tension among the member countries of the United Nations. And that is something T'Challa would never do." With a loving smile, Jamila returned to her husband's side. He took her hand, and kissed the back. "Perhaps we should've waited until morning to involve ourselves in such a deep and thought-provoking subject. Getting to sleep could be difficult."

She touched Abdu's cheek tenderly. "Then what we need is something to take our minds from the thought that our daughter could one day marry a man who is wanted in one hundred and seventeen countries, and is unemployed."

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her onto his lap. "And what, pray tell, could that be?"

Jamila didn't get a chance to respond as Abdu covered her mouth with his.

 **Cyberspace**

Friday shimmered into cyberspace to find Vision already waiting. Her red pixels blinked and flashed. *Am I late, or are you early, Vis? *

His blue lights merged into one bright blob, shrank in upon itself, and was replaced by Vision as she knew him, purple and gold, wearing those same slacks, sweater, and polo shirt. _Boring!_

**Neither. I've just arrived. **

The red lights swirled around each other, eventually settling into the image she'd chosen for herself. She crossed her arms, and shifted all weight onto one foot. *Where are we going on his date? *

**I thought we would discuss it together. **

She put a finger on her chin in thought. *There are _so_ many possibilities. There's formal…* Her clothing changed to a long black dress, heels, stockings, and gloves that reached her elbows, with her hair twisted into an elegant chignon.

*Colorful, and casual…* The hair came down, hanging over the shoulders of a white sweater with stripes in several shades of orange, bright blue skinny pants, and calf-high boots.

*Gothic biker chick…* Black pants, a red and black sleeveless top under a black vest, a wide black belt slung low on her hips, black boots with silver buckles, and silver dangles that touched her shoulders.

*Flirty…* The black was replaced by a short white strapless dress covered in bright purple flowers, accented with a purple jacket and heels. Her hair, usually neatly arranged, had taken on a messy windblown look.

With each change, Vision had merely watched with his head tilted to the side in thought. **Do what pleases _you_ , Friday. **

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Friday grinned. *No one's ever said that to me before. *

**Then it's past the time some did. **

She copied his thoughtful head tilt. *I just had a thought. * A hand waved, taking in Vision's overall appearance. *What do you suppose you'd look like as a human? *

Vision's stoic expression morphed into a mischievous smile. **Shall we find out? **

The air surrounding him shimmered and blurred, the purple and gold fading as if left in the sun too long. When it cleared, Friday was taken slightly aback, though she was careful not to let it show. Her companion looked so different, she wasn't sure it was still him. *Vis? *

His height was the only aspect that hadn't been altered. Now, he was fair-skinned, with blond hair, blue eyes, a slender frame, though still in the same boring clothes. Spreading his hands out to the side, he turned in a circle. **What do you think? Shall I make this my new look? **

Friday walked around him, taking in his updated appearance. She frowned, and waved a hand. *It's a good look, but I prefer the real you. We can still do something about the threads. *

In less than a millisecond, Vision was himself again. **What would you suggest? **

*Oh, something that goes with this…* The outfit Friday conjured up was casual, flirty, and alluring, though she doubted that Vision would see it that way. Faded blue jeans hugged the lower half of her body as if painted on. Her sleeveless top hung in folds down to her hips, molding itself over her form and held in place with a narrow brown belt. The top was mossy green to match her eyes. She wore strappy sandals in the same color, and her toenails had been painted a pale orange, like the inside of a peach. The stones in her jewelry matched the polish on her toes.

**You look lovely, Friday. **

In a flash, his boring, navy blue yuppie-wear had turned into dark blue jeans, and a sweater in a color called cerulean blue. His oxfords were replaced by a pair of black sneakers. Seeing this, Friday altered her footwear to match. *We both look lovely, Vis. Let's get this date started. What do you say to an arm in arm stroll through SI's main operating systems, followed by a long, intense discussion on energy optimization within an AI infrastructure? * She grinned cheekily. *And later, we can engage in some minor program interfacing before we say good night. *

To her surprise, Vision chuckled. **It all sounds rather boring, actually. **

*Do you have a counter offer to bring to the table? *

**As a matter of fact, I do. ** With a glint of mischief in his yellow eyes, Vision snapped his fingers. The generic cyberspace palate disappeared, and Friday found herself sitting beside him on a gondola floating down a crystal blue river. Streets made of brick lined both sides of the water, and up ahead, stone bridges allowed couples to stroll from one side to the other, often stopping in the middle to watch the water, or share a kiss. Quaint little cafés were scattered here and there among the other businesses. The lights lining the canal came on as the sun set up ahead, smearing the water with brilliant orange, pink, and yellow, mixed with just a trace of red. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against his side. **What do you think? **

Friday laid her hand on Vision's thigh, and sighed. *It's perfect. *

 **Mercy General Hospital**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

There was a knock on the half-open door. Taylor looked up from the book he was reading. "Come in."

Dr. Benjamin Okuda entered, and shut the door behind him. "Good afternoon, Mr. Clancy." He looked up from the tablet in his right hand. "I understand you had some trouble sleeping during the night. You also refused the sleeping pill I ordered."

Taylor set the book on the bed as the doctor moved a chair over so they could talk. "I have tried them. They don't work. Not for long. My metabolism is too fast."

"I see." Okuda tapped the tablet, and the television came on, but instead of the usual mind-numbing fare, it displayed Taylor's medical information, along with several paragraphs from three different sources. "The tests we performed show that you do _not_ have epilepsy."

Relief made Taylor smile. "This is good news."

"Absolutely." The doctor frowned. "The bad news is we don't know what's causing your seizures. Not yet." He handed over the tablet. "These are some additional tests we'd like to do. All we need is your consent."

Taylor looked over the list. Shaking his head, he handed it back. "Not until I speak to my mother and father."

"Understood. One thing I'd like to try, purely as a diagnostic tool. It's non-invasive." The screen changed, showing small silver discs less than half the size of a dime wired into a knit-like cap. He nodded at the screen. "We'll send you home with this. Wear it day and night, and only take it off to shower. Your hair has to be dry when you put it back on. Because it resembles a knit cap, no one will know its true purpose. It will send a constant stream of information to the neurologist on how your brain is functioning while you're going about your day. Hopefully, it will help us locate the trigger for your seizures so you can avoid them, or we can create an effective treatment."

"And what if you can't?"

Okuda patted his knee. "Let's worry about that if or when it happens, Mr. Clancy." He held out the tablet. "I'll leave this with you. It has a list of the tests we'd like to do so you can show your parents. Also, there's a place to log how you're feeling, what, how much, and how often you eat, and your physical activities. Anything that might help with the diagnosis, no matter how irrelevant it might seem. You can take it home with you."

Taylor picked up the tablet as the doctor stood, and moved the chair out of the way. "When might that be?"

"A couple of days, if we do the tests, and depending on the results, _and_ if there are no occurrences. Otherwise, tomorrow afternoon."

The door closed behind Okuda, and a few minutes later, the nurse came in to check his vital signs. He went back to his book until his family arrived for a visit. Ryan brought his portable game system, and they played a few rounds before Adam took the kids down to the cafeteria while Taylor and Julia went over the new tests. He asked many questions, and Julia was more than happy to provide answers.

After Julia had gone for the night, Taylor called the nurse to inform her that he wouldn't be taking the proposed tests. When alone again, he couldn't keep his mind on the book, and nothing on television held his interest. Tired of sitting or lying down, and being in this room, he tied the hospital gown closed in the back, put on his slippers, and took his wheeled IV pole for a walk. He turned away from the nurse's station so he wouldn't be reprimanded for going alone.

As he passed an open door, he saw an old man lying in bed, just staring out the window. The sense he got was that the man hadn't had a single visitor since he'd been in the hospital. Taylor knocked, and the man answered without looking to see who it was. "Come in."

Taylor walked to where the man could see him. Somehow, each knew what the other was thinking. Taylor pulled a chair over to the window, and together, they watched the moon as it rose into the sky.

 **Wakanda**

 **The Cryolab**

Wanda's giggle ended on a hiccup. She clapped a hand over her mouth, and they both laughed. "Whelp, I do sees ya as a papa figor. I s'pose it's okay for ya to sees me as a sorta daughter figor."

Bucky pushed another shot glass across the table. Wanda picked it up, waited until he'd done the same, and together, they knocked the tequila back. Some of the liquor dribbled down her chin, and she caught it with a napkin.

Slumping down on his spine, Bucky breathed in and out a few times, and with each exhale, his grin became more and more wistful. "Not just a daughter _figure_ , Wanda."

His eyes met hers, and she could see the drunkenness they'd willed themselves into fading from his mannerisms and posture. "You're my _daughter_. Mine and Natasha's."

She too willed away the altered state, glancing around when the bar scene changed to a cozy living room. "Why are you _saying_ that? Pietro and I had parents. Their names were Fordel and Eva, and they died when we were ten."

"When you were placed with your mother and father, your memories were altered. Mine were, and I can only assume Natasha's were as well."

Pushing to her feet, Wanda paced the room with quick angry steps, stopping behind the sofa, and leaning on the back. "I don't believe you!"

In a flash, they were surrounded by the memory doors, spinning so fast they were a blur, showing Wanda the chaotic state of Bucky's mind. She shook her head, again saying, "I don't believe you, Bucky. It's not possible. I've had psionics in one form or another as long as I can remember. I would _know_."

~~O~~

The doors slowed down, and came to a stop. Bucky nodded at the black star door in front of them. It had grown considerably in size, looming over them, an indication that the events behind it had taken on even greater importance. He opened the door, gesturing for her to enter. Her eyes moved from him to the door and back. "What's this?"

"You want proof." He inclined his head. "It's in there." Still, she hesitated, crossing her arms, and her chin coming up in a show of stubbornness, reminding him of his mother. "You may not like what you see. In fact, I'm sure of it."

"It can't be worse than what we've already been through. Is there something in there you _don't_ want me to see?"

One shoulder lifted and dropped. "Yes… and no."

Wanda shoved her fists into her hips, and huffed. "Which is it?"

"Both." He shook his head. "Once you've seen it… As you said before, you'll never be able to unsee it." For a moment, Wanda seemed to rethink her decision. "Want me to go with you?" he offered.

The question startled her for some reason. She shook her head, and marched to the door. The light engulfed her, the door slammed, and locked with a loud click. Bucky tried the door again, but couldn't get in. "Sorry you're on your own, _moya doch'_."

Bucky leaned against the wall next to the door, sliding to a sitting position with his legs bent, and his wrists resting on the knees. Now that he had free access to all his memories, he remembered the first time he and Natasha had made love. She was sitting on the roof of 2R, shivering in the cold air. He'd climbed over the parapet, and stood in the shadows watching until Natasha had called him out. Strangely, she'd invited him to sit with her, and together they had watched the stars. Natasha had shivered, and he offered his warmth.

He'd been sent there by Karpov, but looking back, if he and Natasha had met in the traditional way, he would've asked for her number. They would've dated for at least a year before he popped the question, and would've had a life filled with love, and laughter, instead of death, and killing, and pain. "I miss you, Natalia."

~~O~~

Natasha, Clint, Steve, and Scott were jolted out of various stages of sleep when the alarms abruptly went off, sounding loud this early in the morning. The sun was just peeking through the lush tropical landscape, bringing the world back to life.

Kaya and her assistant were speaking urgently, their expressions grave. A nurse pushed his way through them, and let himself inside, closing the door in their faces.

For hours, their vital signs had registered below normal, a relief for their friends, and for the doctors.

But now, Scott stared at the monitor as Wanda and Bucky's vital signs climbed higher than ever before. Wanda's inched up while Bucky's stabilized. Kaya's assistant administered a sedative, and bit by bit, her readings came down, making him wonder what was happening in their minds, and if it would have a lasting effect, mentally or physically.

Scott _really_ wanted a cup of coffee, and knew the others wouldn't say no. He only got as far as the door when all hell broke loose.

 **Undisclosed Location**

The leader, going by the name Edwin Hrolf, smiled as yet another of his people checked in upon arrival within the borders of Wakanda. His time was at hand. Soon, he would be in control of a country that had stayed to itself for so long that few outsiders knew the truth of the monarchy.

And when Edwin declared himself king, he would reveal his true name. Not the one given him at birth, but the name it was his destiny to carry at the moment he took the life of the last of the royal family. Oh, yes. He'd reserved that pleasure for himself. He had even purchased a special weapon with which to do the deed.

Over the years of his family's exile, Edwin had studied the Wakandan familial line, and had traced each and every member of the family in line for the throne. Thankfully, there weren't as many as one might have thought.

And while Edwin and his people were here, taking back what should have been his in the first place, another team was on their way to the United States where they would, when given the word, execute the usurper, T'Challa. It would be easy enough to do. Edwin had an informant on the ruling council that had spent years reporting on the royal family. This person had mentioned on more than one occasion that T'Challa would often slip away from the Dora Milaje to take a long run. If he kept it up while out of the country, all his team would have to do is wait until the false king was on his own to take him down.

Edwin sat in his favorite chair, the one that resembled a throne, one knee up, and an elbow resting on it, the other holding the stock of a rifle as if it were a scepter, picturing himself in a crown, and royal robes. Arrogance and self-righteousness filled the room. He wanted to laugh, but that would've been too cliché.

 **The Cryolab**

The medical team overseeing Bucky and Wanda rushed into the cryo room as Scott moved in between Steve and Clint, as always, transfixed by the organized chaos. "Now what?"

Clint sighed long and loud. "Wanda's vital signs have become dangerously erratic. Worse than before. They're bringing them both out of cryo."

"She's gonna be okay, right?" Scott was proud of himself at how steady his voice sounded.

Steve shifted next to him. "Theoretically, there shouldn't be any lasting effects."

Natasha shifted her feet, an action that Scott had come to know. She wanted to pace, but couldn't make herself leave. "The problem comes when putting theory into practice."

Kaya opened the door, and stepped out. "We're waking them now. Please come in."

The men looked at Natasha. As Wanda's mother, and Bucky's significant other, she should be the first that either one sees upon waking. Knowing that his concern for Wanda was superseded by Clint and Steve's, Scott hung back, staying in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Steve, would you, Clint and Scott assist please?"

Startled, Scott pushed off the door, and joined the others. The super-soldier nodded. "What can we do?"

Two orderlies pushed wheelchairs close to the door, and waited.

"They will be weak when they awaken, and will need support to step out of the tube. When the cover is retracted, I need you to catch them." She tapped a command into the controls, and the clear cover opened with a hiss, rising up into the ceiling.

The assembled group, friends, and medical personnel, held their collective breaths as Kaya slowly brought the pair out of their cryogenic comas. The omnipresent white mist slowly dissipated with the help of the environmental systems.

Huddled together, Bucky and Wanda stirred, taking deep breathes, and letting them out slowly.

~~O~~

Bucky groaned, and shifted slightly, his tongue coming out to moisten dry lips. He blinked rapidly, and tried to raise his arm to rub his eyes, but it wouldn't move. Turning his head, he looked down at Wanda's dark hair fanning over her shoulders.

Wanda's hands curled around Bucky's neck as though she were pulling him closer as she too inhaled, and exhaled. She lifted her head, and Bucky moved his arm to hold her, but she pushed away, turning to look at the people standing in the room.

Clint and Scott helped her down, holding on so she wouldn't fall when her knees almost gave out. She kept her head down, and Bucky could hear her quietly weeping. He hated that he'd done that to her, but couldn't think of a way to make it better.

He felt a touch on his shoulder, and Steve was there, helping him down from the platform. A small warm hand slipped into his, and he looked down into Natasha's worried green eyes. She slanted a questioning glance at Wanda, and Bucky nodded, telling her without words that he knew she was their daughter, and that Wanda knew it too.

His hand was released, and Natasha took a step toward their child. "Wanda?" she whispered. " _Moya doch'_?"

The girl looked up sharply, tears making her eyes shine, and creating wet tracks down her cheeks. She swung around, her long hair flying, and stumbled her way through the crowd. Those who tried to stop her were flung back by an invisible force.

~~O~~

Even with so many people around to care for and about her, Wanda still felt as if she were alone in a rising ocean, riding the waves of her emotions toward a whirlpool that threatened to suck her in.

At the sound of Natasha's voice calling her "my daughter", the need to get away surged through Wanda, becoming a torrent. Tears continued to fall, but she didn't let that stop her, wouldn't let any _thing_ or any _one_ stop her. Though her legs would barely support her weight, she had to get as far away from this place as possible. Somewhere she could think. Several people tried to keep her from leaving. With the flick of her hand, she knocked them on their asses.

Turning corners at random, she eventually ran into someone. He stumbled, and his arms held onto her so they wouldn't fall. "Wanda? You okay?"

The man's voice was familiar, but Wanda's addled brain couldn't bring up a name or a face. All she knew is that she could trust him. She latched onto him as if she were drowning, and was enfolded into a warm and comforting embrace.

 **TBC**


	39. Who's Your Daddy?

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Who's Your Daddy?**

Taylor jerked awake at the knock on his door. Rubbing his eyes, and yawning, he slung his feet over the side of the bed, and tried to appear as if he'd been awake for a while. "Come in."

A young woman came in carrying his breakfast tray and smiling as if she hadn't a care in the world. "Good morning, Mr. Clancy. My name is Tereza." She set the tray on the rolling table, and removed the cover. "Breakfast."

Upon hearing her accent, Taylor was immediately curious. "May I ask where you're from?"

Her smiled was at once shy, confused, and amused. "The same place as you. Sokovia. I didn't know there were other Sokovians living in this part of Canada. Most were relocated to the Czech Republic, Austria, Hungary, Germany, and Poland so they could be close to our homeland even though it was inhabitable. Some went to the United States." She shrugged. " _I_ came to Vancouver."

"Sokovia?"

Tereza immediately looked contrite, taking his one-word comment as a reprimand. "My apologies. Many survivors of the Battle of Sokovia prefer to pretend that it did not happen. For me, it has taken months for the nightmares to stop. I still get them sometimes. After nearly falling to my death, and being saved by Captain America, I also have a fear of heights. My friends say that I should see a therapist."

More confused than before, Taylor added sugar and butter to his oatmeal, and stirred. "How did you know I'm from Sokovia? It is not in my medical file."

"I haven't invaded your privacy, Mr. Clancy." She gestured at the hall. "You were talking in your sleep, in Sokovian." At the door, Tereza looked back at him. "I lost my mother, father, boyfriend, and his family. It's been a long road back. I wish you well."

When Tereza had gone, Taylor took his laptop from the bedside table, and turned it on. While it booted up, he ate his oatmeal, chewing thoughtfully. When he first arrived at the psychiatric facility where he met Julia, he experienced nightmares for which all they could to was to wake him. And the linguist who had attempted to place his country of origin had not once mentioned Sokovia as a possibility.

Had that been an oversight, or a deliberate omission? The only way to know was to confront the man in person as it was highly unlikely that he would accept phone calls or answer emails if it was the second option. However, he preferred not to have to travel all the way to Romania for answers.

Taylor set his empty bowl on the table, and dug into the eggs, sausage and toast. By the time he'd finished his meal, he had decided not to tell Julia and Adam about this incident. Not yet.

The computer beeped, he pulled it close, opened a browser, and typed in "Sokovia". His finger hovered over the enter key. Did he really want to know what had happened, and why all the country's residents were scattered over the globe? Yes, and no. He wanted to get back what he'd lost, but if that meant he would also feel the pain of losing loved ones, he'd rather not.

Still, his inherent curiosity won out. He pressed enter, and clicked on the first entry.

 _Sokovia, officially the republic of Sokovia, was a small country located in Eastern Europe. Its capital city was Novi Grad_ …

It went on to detail a devastating battle, called the Battle of Sokovia, between the Avengers and Ultron, an artificial intelligence peacekeeping program created by Tony Stark, the owner of Stark Industries. Ultron had somehow become sentient, and set about planning the destruction of humanity.

The Avengers ultimately stopped Ultron and his robotic army, but at the expense of many Sokovian citizens. One hundred and seventy-seven civilians were killed. The destruction was estimated at $474 billion in damages. The country was a total loss, and its remaining citizens were relocated to countries of their choosing.

Taylor's head began to throb, but unlike those that presaged a seizure, this one was different in intensity, and location, and was not accompanied by the awful smell. He closed down the computer, put it in the drawer, and climbed back into bed. Using the controls, he shut off the lights, and willed the headache away.

 **Wakanda**

 **The Cryolab**

The black star door opened, light flared, nearly blinding Bucky. He turned away, covering his eyes with his arm, and when the light vanished, Wanda was facing away from him, her head down, and arms hanging loosely at her sides.

Getting to his feet, Bucky cautiously approached Wanda, his hand tentatively reaching out to touch her. "Wanda?"

She inhaled hard at the sound of his voice, her head coming up as she slowly turned to face him. "How long have you known?"

Bucky took a deep breath, and let it out. "Time is relative in here."

"How… long?"

"A few days, maybe a week."

Her anger grew, became palpable. "A _week_? And you never said anything? Let me talk about my brother and my parents, and all this time…"

"I did it to protect you, _moya doch'_."

Wanda slashed a hand through the air, her eyes going several shades darker with the force of her emotions. "You were only protecting yourself, because, if I knew the truth…" Involuntarily-at least he hoped so-the red mist of her psionics formed at her fingertips. "Natasha! _Why_ didn't I see it before?" The red mist grew, creating an ever-shifting cloud between them as she raised her arms. "She went to Russia on some mysterious errand, and when she came back, she was… different. Treated _me_ different. Kept asking questions about mine and Pietro's childhood."

Not knowing what would happen if he touched the red mist Bucky let his arm drop to his side. "I was only thinking of you."

Her breathing increased. She drew her arms back, using the same pushing motion he'd seen before, sending the mist toward him. Bucky turned, bringing his left arm up, and dropped into a crouch. The mist passed harmlessly over his head.

Immediately, the ground started shaking. Barely perceptible at first, gaining strength by the second until they could barely stand. Wanda almost fell, and Bucky pulled her against his chest, both watching the doors wink out a few at a time.

Wanda screamed as the ground beneath dipped and surged upward, throwing them into the air. Turning as they fell, Bucky hit the ground hard enough to force a grunt out of him. He got to his feet again, bringing Wanda up with him.

She looked down, eyes wide with shock. "What's happening?!"

His eyes followed hers, and together they watched his metal arm slowly fade out, and disappear, while the hair on his face thickened along his jaw and down his neck. "At a guess, they're bringing us out of cryo." She stepped back just out of reach, seemingly embarrassed that she'd sought protection in his arms after what happened.

The last of the doors shrank in upon itself, and was gone. Wanda seemed to be moving away from him, and he reached for her as the light faded to black.

Bucky's next sensation was of pressure against his side, and around his neck. Beeping, and voices intruded, sounding loud at first, and becoming less strident, eventually fading into the background.

~~O~~

Natasha and Bucky held onto each other as their daughter pushed her way through the crowd, knocking Sam into a wall with the force of her psionics when he tried to keep her from leaving. With every fiber of her being, Natasha wanted to go after her, but knew it would be futile. The young woman had to work things out for herself.

She felt Bucky move beside her. Seeking his eyes with hers, Natasha touched him on the cheek. "I'm so glad you're back. How do you feel?"

He gathered her close, his nose touching the side of her neck as he whispered, "Natalia. My Natalia." Leaning back, he looked down at her stomach, smoothing his hand over the place where their children had grown beneath her heart. "Glad to be out of cryo." One eyebrow moved upward a fraction of an inch. "Worried that our dau-Wanda wasn't able to remove the trigger words."

He felt another presence at his other side, and turned to face Steve. His friend clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to have you back."

The group parted for an orderly pushing a wheelchair, and Bucky looked at it with distaste. "I don't need that. I can walk."

Kaya and her assistant moved around in front of Bucky, reaching up to remove the monitors. "Yes, you can, but please indulge your doctor, at least for now."

"But…"

Steve interrupted what could've been a lengthy rant. "Don't be a jerk, Buck."

Seeing he was beaten, Bucky sat down, and put his feet on the footrests, rubbing his cheeks where his beard had grown out despite being in cryo. Natasha and Steve walked behind the chair as the orderly pushed him from the room. Over his shoulder, Bucky whispered, "Punk."

Natasha smiled, and came alongside to take his hand. "When you're ready, we have a place set up to test if the trigger words have been removed. If everything goes well, we also have a surprise waiting."

He kissed the back of her hand. "God, I hope so. I do _not_ want to go through that again."

"I think it's safe to say you won't be able to count on Wanda helping a second time," Steve deadpanned.

Bucky sent a glare in Steve's direction on Wanda's behalf. Knowing Steve was right, sadness threatened to overwhelm Natasha, and she took a deep breath to shore up her flagging spirits. "Any idea where she's gone?"

Hill came out of the crowd that had gathered. "I can help with that."

~~O~~

Scott had the urge to go after Wanda as ran from the cryolab. However, past experience with his ex-wife, and numerous ex-girlfriends told him to let her be. _You can't force her to talk to you_.

Hers was a strong mind that had been battered emotionally by the revelation that the life she'd always known was all a dream designed by someone else. Finding out that she and her brother had been adopted, and their biological parents were a former psycho-assassin, and a spy who was also an assassin couldn't have been easy to hear.

Soon, Wanda would have to sit down with Bucky and Natasha to discuss their relationship, and why their children had been raised by another couple. Again, at a time of Wanda's choosing.

Scott had his own issues, but at least he'd been there for Cassie, and planned to be for a long time.

While in Vancouver, he'd given Maggie an email address that would forward emails from her through a network of anonymous servers. If anyone, even the government, was monitoring her communications, they wouldn't be able to trace his location. And if Maggie were confronted by the men in black again, she could truthfully say she didn't know where he was. So even if he couldn't be with Cassie, he could still speak to her. Video chatting would be even better, but again, someone might hack the stream, and discover his whereabouts. Such an act would get them all in trouble, especially T'Challa, as he was contravening the accords he'd sworn to uphold by giving them political sanctuary.

He watched Bucky being wheeled away with Natasha and Steve. Kaya stood talking to Clint, and he invited himself to join them. "What's the verdict, doc?"

A tablet was put into his hands by Kaya's assistant, while she explained what he was seeing. To him, it was just a bunch of wavy lines in different colors that showed spikes into the upper end of the danger zone. "By the time Wanda was fully conscious, her vital signs had stabilized. Until I can examine her, we can only make assumptions, and I would prefer not to do so."

Scott agreed with an understanding nod. The assistant took the tablet, and set it next to the computer. Now that Wanda was out of cryo, and had gone off to who knows where, he didn't know what to do with himself. He was jolted out of a spell of lethargy by Clint slapping him on the arm, and pointing to where Hill was talking to Bucky, Natasha, and Steve.

"Let's go, Lang." Clint left Kaya and the rest of her team to do whatever it was they did, and Scott followed, arriving in time to hear the tail end of the conversation.

"…and because he's better at the touchy-feely stuff, I left them alone." She gestured vaguely. "My job is to stay out of the way."

There was only one conclusion that Scott could draw from that statement, and without looking, he knew Clint had formed the same opinion as to Wanda's whereabouts. Too bad they couldn't just march in and take over.

~~O~~

The door to the cryolab slid open, and Cameron was nearly knocked over when Wanda ran into him. His arms went around her so she wouldn't fall, and the young woman clung to him as if he were her lifeline. Her gentle sobs made him want to run like a frightened deer, but that wouldn't help. By her reaction, she had to have found out what Steve had told them about Natasha and Bucky.

He didn't blame her for being upset. If he were told that his life had all been a sham, he'd likely react the same way, hopefully without the crying. Come to think of it, he had. Sort of.

Hill laid a hand on Wanda's back, and the girl shied away as if she'd been hit, mewling like a frightened kitten. Over her shoulder, Cameron communicated his intentions, and Hill made herself scarce as he guided Wanda into the lift, and out again on the main floor.

In the nearly empty dining room, Cameron put Wanda in a chair, and pushed a stack of napkins toward her. He turned to go, and she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please stay."

"I'll be right back." He went to the food line, and returned carrying a tray with two cups, a tin of loose tea, and a pot of hot water, placing it in the middle. Cameron scooped a spoonful of tea into an infuser, hung it on the side of a cup, and poured hot water over it. He placed the cup in Wanda's hands, and made another for himself. Inhaling the tea's fragrance as it steeped reminded him of his mother, and how he would make her a cup of tea when she came home from a difficult day at her job as a social worker.

Wanda took a sip, and closed her eyes. By now, the crying had stopped, though she continued to sniffle. Holding the cup in both hands, she let the steam carry the scent to her nose. She took another sip, and her eyes met his.

One shoulder lifted. "I know what it's like to have a deep dark family secret rise up and smack you in the face."

The right side of her mouth turned up in a wry smile. "I assume you already know mine. Want to tell me yours?"

~~O~~

In the jungle that surrounded the compound, two black furry heads raised up, sniffing the air, almost as if they'd sensed something that no one else could see or hear. As one, they got to their feet, and stretched and yawned.

They stopped at the stream for a long drink before heading toward the compound. At the edge of the jungle, they stopped, tails lashing side to side, and lay down to wait.

~~O~~

Cameron tapped a finger on the table, and decided to let Wanda in on the biggest secret of his life. He hadn't even told Hill yet, though, considering their former profession, she probably already knew. He rested his left ankle on his right knee, and leaned back, turning the cup side to side. "Mom died when I was four. I was adopted by her brother and his wife. They were my godparents, and couldn't have children of their own, so it was just the three of us while I was growing up in Minnetonka, Minnesota. Nothing was ever said about my biological father, and I learned early on not to ask. When I was twenty-seven, purely by accident, I found out his name, and that he has a wife and son."

Wanda gripped his hand, sympathy in her green eyes. "I'm sorry."

He squeezed her hand. "It's no big deal. Mom and Dad are great. After I was diagnosed with cancer at the age of thirteen, Mom quit her job to take care of me. The treatments left me unable to physically keep up with my peers. She didn't want me to fall behind academically, so I was home schooled."

"She sounds like a wonderful person. Reminds me of my, uh, my mother."

Dropping his foot to the floor, Cameron leaned forward to take Wanda's hand where it now lay in her lap. "We both had great adoptive parents who were there for us when our birth parents couldn't be, for whatever reason. That doesn't mean they didn't want or love us. Things just didn't work out the way we, or they, would've wanted."

She sipped her tea, and he watched the wheels spinning inside her head, waiting for her to work it all out. It might be a while before she fully accepted the situation, but at least she was more composed.

Cameron looked up when she pushed the cup over to be refilled. He went through the routine for both of them, and again, she held the cup where she could inhale the steam. Rooibos tea had a variety of health benefits, among them, a calming effect, and it was working.

"What does he do? Your birth father."

"Career Air Force. Currently, he's with the ATCU, the Advanced Threat Containment Unit. It's a government agency created to deal with the emergence of new Inhumans following the accidental release of Terrigen mist. That's a gaseous substance produced by Terrigen crystals. When an Inhuman is exposed to the mist, they generate a rock-like cocoon, and undergo something called Terrigenesis that gives them superhuman powers."

Wanda shifted in her seat, and set the cup on the table. "I've heard of these crystals, and often wondered what would have happened if I had been exposed, either before or after the enhancements done by Dr. von Strucker." There was a long moment of silence in which Cameron reexamined his feelings regarding the knowledge of his father's identity. He must've zoned out because Wanda patted his hand to get his attention. "Your father. What is his name?"

Cameron hadn't uttered the man's name in years. Moment of truth, as they say. "Brigadier General Glenn Talbot."

~~O~~

Sitting on the side of the bed while Kaya examined him, Bucky looked back at the past few days, and wondered how he could've presented the truth to Wanda in a way that she wouldn't now be blaming him and Natasha. He thought it best for them to do it together, and that meant he had to be out of cryo. If they hadn't gotten fake drunk, he wouldn't have slipped up, and perhaps, their daughter wouldn't hate them.

Chuckling to himself, he thought, _it seemed like a good idea at the time. We both thought so_.

Bucky hadn't been drunk, or even gotten a half-decent buzz since before his unit was captured in '43. In the two years he'd been on the run, he had used many different substances trying to make himself feel anything but the numbness of not feeling. He supposed that was why others used.

Heroin, cocaine, cannabis, oxy, ecstasy, ice, special K, even Vicodin. He wanted to feel _something_ just once before going back to the way it was. Unfortunately, the only noticeable effect was an empty wallet. He'd taken some substances in such high doses that most people would've overdosed, and yet, he was able to walk away at the end without suffering withdrawals, or any other physical effects. Just the guilt that he'd contributed to the making and distributing of these foul substances to those who didn't have the same advantages.

It was something he hadn't mentioned to Steve, though he'd talked about it with Natasha. He thought she would push him away, and never want to see him again. But instead, she'd held him tight, and told him just want he wanted to hear. That she loved him no matter what he'd done as the Winter Soldier, or in his quest to become Bucky Barnes again. And thinking back on their time in Bucharest, he realized that it was then that he finally began feeling human again.

Kaya finished her hands-on exam, and smiled. "We still must do blood work and several non-invasive tests, but that will come later." She opened the door to show Steve and Natasha waiting in the hall. "They will escort you to the secure cells in the sub-basement. They may not hold you, but it's all we have to offer, Mr. Barnes."

Bucky jumped off the bed with a grin. "Thanks, doc." Out in the hall, he hugged Natasha to his side. "Steve, do you mind if we have a few minutes alone?" Steve looked uncomfortable and embarrassed, and Bucky rushed to reassure him. "It's not what you think. Really."

Natasha poked him in the chest, and smirked. "Sure of that, are you?"

Waving a hand, Steve said, "Fine. I'll be in the dining room when you're ready."

Taking him by the hand, Natasha led Bucky to the room they shared. As soon as the door closed, they were all over each other. With his one good arm around her waist, Bucky fell backward onto the bed. She moved her slim body against him, and though he thought being in cryo would've had a deleterious effect on his libido, that wasn't the case. He wanted to make love with Natasha so badly, he ached all over. But there were more important considerations to deal with first.

Eventually, Natasha slowed her movements, and separated herself from him. Bucky sat up on the side of the bed, pushing a hand though his hair while she brought the laptop over to him. A photo was displayed of a young man with silver hair and bright blue eyes, smiling with such happiness that Bucky smiled too. "Oh, my _God_ , Tasha. Our son is amazing."

"He is, though I only saw a genuine smile from him on a few occasions."

Bucky touched the screen. "I've never met someone whose smile looks like it could make flowers grow, and cause kittens to be born."

She laughed, and tabbed to the next photo: Wanda and Pietro together. In this one, neither of them were smiling. It was taken from security footage at Stark's lab the day Vision was born. Prior to this, there had been another disagreement, and Bruce had threatened to kill Wanda. Natasha hadn't believed he would do it, though Wanda had felt differently.

"How fast could he run?"

"You'd have to ask Stark." Realizing what she said, Natasha backpedaled. "Sorry. Forgot where I was. Wanda might know. Once she's speaking to us again."

Reaching in front of Natasha, Bucky used the arrows to scroll through the other photos. He inhaled sharply when he came to one that showed Pietro's body lying on the floor of one of the transports evacuating Sokovia. "I… I was there when he died."

That surprised her, and she gripped his hand tight. "You _were_? How?"

"After D.C., I wandered from place to place, and eventually found myself in Sokovia doing odd jobs so I could eat and have a roof over my head. Most of the time, I slept in abandoned buildings that had been condemned. The day before I'd planned to move on, Ultron came to Novi Grad. I watched from the sidelines as the Avengers took out Ultron's robot army. Even destroyed a few myself. On board the ship, I hid so I wouldn't run into Steve. I wasn't ready to see him yet.

"When the ship landed off the shore of Croatia, I jumped overboard, swam ashore, and made my way through Bosnia and Serbia to Bucharest."

She touched his cheek with her fingertips, giving him a sad smile. "You would've loved him, Bucky."

Tears stung the backs of his eyes, and felt himself choking up. "I _do_ love him." Natasha scrolled back to the photo of Pietro smiling, set the computer on the bedside table, put her arms around him, and together, they cried over the loss of the son they never really knew. "Tasha, h-how can I love and miss someone I've never met?"

 **TBC**


	40. Turning Point

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Turning Point**

Cameron came out of the dining room with Wanda holding onto his arm. "Thank you so much for the tea _and_ the talk. I see why Maria cares about you so much."

For a moment, it appeared that he would argue the point. Instead, he just smiled though it seemed forced. Was it the revelation about his father, or her mention of Maria? Perhaps he was sad on her behalf. He was kind, caring, and compassionate, and she was honored to have him as a friend.

"Could I ask you something?" His tone was tentative, as if he didn't want to bring up old memories. Too late for that.

"Of course, Cameron."

His hand patted hers where it touched his arm. "Before the battle with Ultron, you and your brother were hell bent on revenge against Mr. Stark, and you used the Avengers to get it. What made you change sides?"

She had known someone would ask, and was glad it had come from Cameron. "Pietro and I realized that revenge doesn't change the past, and it wouldn't bring our parents back. Though, for a while," she sighed, "it felt good."

"And when it stopped feeling good?"

"That's when we changed sides." They stopped in the hallway, letting the flow of humanity go around them. "What are your plans for the evening?"

One shoulder twitched, as if he couldn't decide, or was making something up. "Do some research for Agent Ba-, um, Clint, have dinner, and make it up from there."

"Sounds like fun. For _you_ , I mean." Wanda wrinkled her nose at him so he'd know she was joking, "Not so much for me." When Cameron had gone, Wanda stood there, torn between confronting Bucky and Natasha, or taking a walk as a stalling technique. They would have to talk sooner or later. It might as well be now.

She got in the lift, rode up to the residential floor, and came to a stop outside their door. It was slightly ajar, and odd sounds were coming from inside. Not as if they were being intimate, but more like…

Putting a hand up, Wanda slowly eased the door open. The first thing she saw was a photo of Pietro's patented eager puppy smile displayed on the computer. She pushed the door wider. Bucky and Natasha were sitting on the side of the bed.

Natasha touched Bucky's cheek. "You would've loved him, Bucky."

Wanda saw the tears as he choked out, "I _do_ love him." Natasha put her arms around Bucky, and together, they cried over the loss of the son they never really knew. "Tasha, h-how can I love and miss someone I've never met?"

~~O~~

Disturbed by his talk with Wanda, Cameron opted to spend some time in the garden. His usual spot was thankfully vacant. He sat down in the middle of the bench, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, rubbing his hands together. The splashing of the fountain usually calmed him, but not tonight. His talk with Wanda had brought up all those memories he'd long ago shoved behind a door in his mind. And Wanda, without even using her psionics, had convinced him to open it again.

He heard footsteps approaching, and leaned back to give the appearance of tranquility, keeping his head down so as not to invite conversation.

"Knew I'd find you here." Swearing silently, Cameron took a breath, and waited for Hill to say what was on her mind. It didn't take long. Never did. "You only come here to mope or brood. Which is it?"

"Does it matter?"

Hill came to sit next to him, taking hold of his hand. "It does to me."

Too jittery to get into a verbal fencing match, Cameron conceded. "In a blaze of _epic_ stupidity, so she wouldn't feel so bad about her situation, I traded family angst stories with Wanda. I told her about my birth father."

"General Talbot," she stated. "What about him?"

Shaking his head, Cameron reclaimed his hand, and crossed his arms. "Who else knows?"

"Fury, of course. Me, you, your mom and dad, and now Wanda. Unless you've told others, that's it."

"His name doesn't appear in any of my records, and it's not on my birth certificate. From what Mom and Dad _didn't_ say, he has no idea I exist."

They sat in silence for a long time, and Cameron appreciated that Hill gave him time to process. Then suddenly, she stood, and held out her hand. "Come with me."

Her sudden upbeat attitude immediately made him suspicious. "Why?"

A huff with an eye roll showed that she was at least mildly annoyed. "You need cheering up, and I have just the thing."

Finally taking her hand, Cameron stood, and was pulled into an embrace. He didn't resist when she held his head between both hands, and brought him to her for a long, hot kiss. He tried to take it further, and she stepped out of reach. With a smile, Hill took hold of his hand again, and didn't let go until they reached her room. She opened the door, pushed him in ahead of her, and slammed it behind them.

~~O~~

Bucky dried his eyes with the tail of his scrubs, looking up with Natasha's hand came into sight holding a wad of tissues. He gave her a soggy smile of thanks, which she returned while sniffing into a tissue. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

" _Da_." A snort came from her when he blew his nose with a loud honk. He gave her a sheepish grin, and a moment later, clean clothes landed on the bed, and his sneakers hit the floor with a double thud.

"Get dressed, _lyubimaya_. We'll find Steve and Sam, and get started."

The shirt got caught on the cap over his missing prosthesis, and Natasha came to give him a hand with an affectionate smile. Without being asked, she helped him get dressed, even fastening the Velcro closures on his sneakers. He caught her hand, and brought it to his lips. " _Spasibo, moya lyubov_."

Natasha wedged herself between his thighs, and he tilted his head back for a lingering kiss. She gave him a look of mock reproach when he wanted to take it further, and led him from the room.

~~O~~

A squad of soldiers armed with Tasers and tranquilizer guns escorted Bucky into the cell where Wanda had been kept after her rampage, and locked the door. Truthfully, Natasha didn't believe either could be confined if they didn't want to be, but it was all they had.

She and Steve stood near the security desk, watching the monitor over the guard's shoulder. He clicked the microphone. "Are you ready, Mr. Barnes?"

" _As I'll ever be_."

The guard turned to the side, and Natasha took out the small notebook in which she'd written the trigger words. "We're ready to start, Bucky." On the monitor, he looked into the camera with a wink and a smile. She knew he trusted her to do this. Steve gave her shoulder a squeeze, and she patted his hand. Off to the right, Sam gave her a nudge and a confident smile. No one knew where Scott had gone. He'd been keeping an around the clock vigil on Wanda, and was probably sleeping. Natasha adjusted the mic, and began. " _Sil'noe zhelaniye_ … _rzhavet_ … _semna-"_

" _Stop, stop!_ " The squad around them tensed up until Natasha waved a hand. His voice didn't sound the way it had in Berlin. Bucky exhaled loudly, and sat on the side of the bed. " _This isn't working. I've never heard the words spoken by a woman before. And considering our relationship, Tasha, I'd rather someone else did it._ "

Natasha looked at Steve questioningly. He shrugged, and nodded, glancing over the list she held up. She whispered the first word in his ear so Bucky couldn't hear. " _Sil-sil'noe zhet-, um, zhelaniye_ … _rzhat-vesht…_ "

Bucky's snickering came on top of Natasha's chuckle. She pressed her lips together, and covered her mouth with her hand when _rzhavet_ came out sounding like "rat's ass" in Steve's Brooklyn accent. To the guards, she said, "Do any of you speak Russian?" The men and women shook their heads. "Sorry, _lyubimaya_. Hill's the only other…"

" _Get Cam. He speaks Russian_." Bucky snorted a laugh. " _His voice reminds me of Karpov_."

"Steve and Sam'll take care of it, Bucky."

Standing in the middle of the room, feet shoulder width apart, right hand rubbing the back of his neck, he looked into the camera. " _There's one more thing…_ "

~~O~~

"I'll go," Steve said, already jogging toward the exit with Sam on his heels.

At the lifts, Sam crossed his arms. "Nerd-boy speaks Russian? Never would've thought it."

The lift door opened on the residential floor, and they got out. "Like most of SHIELD, there's more to Cameron than what you see on the surface."

Wanda rushed past them with her face averted. Sam started after her, but Steve stopped him with a quick head shake. He was about to knock on Cameron's door when he heard laughter coming from Hill's room, one of which was the man they were looking for.

Steve looked at Sam who was looking back. Sam held his hands up. "Rock, paper, scissors to see who interrupts them?"

The mild glare Steve shot at his friend was ignored as he knocked on the door. To the surprise of both men, Hill called out, " _Come in!_ "

Steeling himself for what he might see, Steve pushed the door open, slowly in case he needed to slam it shut again. However, he wasn't prepared for what he saw.

Hill and Cameron were sitting on the side of the bed, fully dressed. The each held a game controller. They were laughing, and playfully shoving each other while playing Mario Kart. Rolling his eyes, Steve purposely stepped in front of the screen, and crossed his arms.

Their amusement turned to whiny annoyance. "What the hell, Rogers? We're playing a game here."

"Sorry to disturb your quality time together, but we need your help, Cameron."

Surprised, Cameron held the controller in one hand, and pointed to himself with the other.

"Yes. Bucky is requesting that _you_ be the one to recite the trigger words. Will you help?"

The tech turned off the console while Hill shut down the monitor. Out in the hall, he ventured, "Why me, sir?"

"Stop calling me _sir_ , Cameron. Bucky feels that the test will produce results closer to what he's used to if the words are spoken by a male voice. He said you speak Russian."

"Also, German, Wakandan, and French." The day HYDRA let the world know it was still a force to be reckoned with had been a turning point for Cameron, moving him in a new direction. "I'll help anyway I can."

 **Mercy General Hospital**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

After making one last check of the room, Taylor picked up the gym bag Julia had brought for his personal belongings, and stepped into the hall where she was waiting to take him home. Even though they'd visited, he missed being at home with his family. "Ready?"

He spied a familiar face going into another room. "Almost, Mother. Wait by the elevators?"

Julia nodded, and they moved in opposite directions. Taylor stopped to lean against the wall with the bag slung over his head so that the strap crossed his chest from left shoulder to right hip. He perked up when the door opened. "Tereza."

She seemed startled to see him, and that he remembered her name. "Oh, hello." Her eyes went to the bag. "You're being discharged?"

He waggled his hand. "Turns out they can't keep you, if you don't want to stay." Casting a glance up and down the hall, he dropped his voice to a whisper. "And between you and me, the food here is crap."

Tereza laughed, and looked down, her cheeks going pink. "Yes, it is."

"Before I go, I wanted to ask you about the night I talked in my sleep." She waited patiently for him to continue. "What did I say?"

"Oh, um, _sestra_ , _zhazhda mesti_ , _predala_." Her eyebrows drew together over her nose in confusion. "The rest didn't make sense. _Vy ne videli, chto prikhod?_ "

"Was that all?"

The young woman nodded.

" _Taylor? We need to go, sweetie. I have patients to see._ " Julia called down the hall.

Pointing a thumb over his shoulder, Taylor walked backward a few steps. "Mother's calling. Oh!" He withdrew a business card from the side pocket of the bag, and handed it to Tereza. "My mother is a psychologist. You know, just in case you want to work on that fear of heights thing. If you don't feel comfortable talking to the parent of a former patient, I'm sure she can give you references."

She thanked him with a smile. Turning the card over, she found another number on the back. "What's this?"

Talking as he continued to walk backwards, he grinned. "That's _my_ number."

 **Wakanda**

The flimsy hold Wanda had on her emotions broke at seeing Pietro's picture, and hearing Natasha and Bucky professing love for her brother. As Bucky said, how could they care so much for Pietro, having known so little about him?

All the thoughts and emotions she'd kept bottled up inside since her twin died came surging to the surface. Wanda turned, and ran from the residential wing. She ran into someone, but didn't bother to see who it was. The door to the stairwell banged against the wall so hard it left a mark.

On the first floor, she stumbled to a stop when someone opened the door from the other side. "S-Scott."

"What's wrong?" Wanda grabbed onto his arms, digging her fingers into the material of his shirt. He touched her cheek. "Oh, my God. You're pale and shaking like a leaf."

"I-I…" she couldn't go on. Without a word, Scott walked her to the lifts. They got out on the residential floor, and went straight to his room. As soon as the door closed, she went into his arms. "Please, just hold me."

~~O~~

Scott guided her to the side of the bed without letting go, urging her head onto his shoulder. "Is this about Barnes and Natasha?"

"You know they're…"

"Yes." He felt her stiffen, and rushed to reassure her. "Natasha told us while you were in cryo." The tissues were in the bathroom, but he didn't want to leave Wanda to get them, so he offered her the tail of his t-shirt.

She wiped her eyes, and tilted her head back to look at him. "I went to talk to them, but when I got there, they…" she shook her head, "…the computer… they were looking at a photo of Pietro, and crying. And it was all just-it was too much. I haven't cried for my brother since his memorial service in Clint's hometown. Haven't even talked about him much."

"Maybe you should. It can be empowering." She pressed her palm against his chest, and he loosened his hold. "And you can talk to me about anything."

"I don't _want_ to talk. Not now. Can we just sit here for a while?"

He brushed hair from her forehead. "I've hardly slept the past few days. Was going to take a nap before dinner."

Wanda kicked off her shoes, and scooted back until she could lay her head on one of the pillows. She held out her hand. "We can take one together."

The thought of what Clint, and now Bucky and Natasha, would do to him if they found her here was overshadowed by the need for sleep. Scott toed off his shoes, and went around to the other side of the bed. He lay down, and Wanda immediately rolled over to cuddle against his side. Within a few minutes, she was asleep. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and closed his eyes.

 **Security, Lower Level**

The closer they got to the maximum-security cells, the more nervous Cameron felt, so that by the time they reached the security desk, he was ready to bolt. Right now, he'd rather be lost in the jungle, stalked by hungry carnivores than where he was. But he agreed to help, and wouldn't let them down.

Steve opened the door, waiting for Cameron to go ahead of him. His hesitation must've been apparent because Steve shut the door again, and stood in front of it. "You don't have to do this. We'll find another way."

"Uh, no. I'll do it." Cameron took a deep breath to keep himself from stammering. "It's just…" he let his eyes meet Steve's, "…my mom and dad. I haven't spoken to them except through email since all this started and if something happens to me while I'm down there…"

"I'll protect you."

Relieved, Cameron tried to give the appearance of thinking it over. But by then Steve had opened the door again. The three men strode up to the heavy steel door that had been lined with vibranium within the last few days. A guard opened the door, and they found themselves in a short hallway with only three cells. Bucky was in the one farthest from the door. Not that it would do any good if he went on another rampage.

Bucky stood, his expression apologetic. "Thanks for coming, Cam."

"'S-okay." He held up the notebook. Steve nodded, and moved down to the opposite end of the hall. "Any additional instructions or requests before we get started, sir?"

Bucky went to lean against the wall as far from the door as possible. "Let's do it."

Taking a moment to clear his mind, to try to think like Karpov, Cameron opened the notebook. He didn't need it, having already committed the list to memory. But he used it as a way to make the experience as close to what Bucky remembered as possible.

He'd read up on Colonel Vasily Karpov when they first came to Wakanda, and used that information now. Karpov was arrogant and cold-blooded in his work, and in his dealings with everyone he encountered, be it personal, or professional. Cameron had to channel that dynamic. He had to _be_ Karpov. Strangely enough, he found a thread to grasp, something to make it easier.

Closing his eyes, Cameron worked his features into a mask of ruthlessness, letting the emotion enter his voice as well. He opened his eyes, leveling a glare at Bucky. "So, we begin, _Soldat_ ," he commanded in Russian.

~~O~~

Cameron walked to the cell, opened the notebook, and let his eyes meet Bucky's without flinching. " _Sil'noe zhelaniye_ … _rzhavet_ …" he paced to the end of the hallway, and back in the other direction, always staying within Bucky's sight, " _semnadtsat'_ … _rassvet_ …" each step was slow, and he made sure that his shoes thumped on the concrete floor, " _pech'_ … _devyat_ …"

Chancing a glance at Bucky on his next pass, he saw that the man had grabbed the side of his head. He was moaning low in his throat, as if he were in pain. As he turned to go back, Cameron caught Steve's eye. " _Dobrokachestvennaya_ …"

Bucky growled, and his breathing sped up. Steve gestured for Cameron to continue.

" _Vozvrashcheniye domoy_ … _odin_ …" Cameron paused to take a breath, and uttered the final word, the one that would complete Bucky's transformation into the Winter Soldier. " _Gruzovoy avtomobil'_."

Bucky was bent at the waist, hand covering his eyes. His breathing slowed, though it was still fast. Cameron felt Steve come up beside him. He pointed to the word at the bottom of the page, and Steve nodded.

" _Soldat_?" Bucky didn't seem to hear him.

Taking a step closer, Steve murmured, "Bucky?"

His friend's head came up, the hand dropped to his side, and he stood straight and tall, grinning. "Gotcha!"

Sagging with relief, Cameron stepped around Steve. The super-soldier crossed his arms, his eyes shooting daggers at the man in the cell.

There was a buzz-click, the cell door opened, and the men glared at each other. "Jerk."

To which Bucky replied, "Punk."

The exchange had the feel of an old routine between best friends. At the end of the hall, the door opened, and Natasha hurried in. Bucky pushed Steve out of the way, and swept her into an embrace. "It worked!"

Leaving the three of them alone, Cameron returned to the security desk. He didn't know what to do with the notebook, so he shoved it into his pocket.

Hill and Sam were leaning against the wall, and both were smiling. But Cameron only had eyes for the woman. He extended his hand, and she took it. "You were amazing, Cam."

He shrugged humbly. "Just glad it worked."

She looked past him to where Steve, Bucky and Natasha were coming down the hallway. They went to the lifts. Steve was grinning. "We should celebrate."

The smile on Bucky's face waned. "With all that's happened, I'm not really in the mood. Maybe tomorrow, Stevie."

"Sure." Steve's forehead crinkled in thought. "By the way, has anyone seen Clint?"

~~O~~

Pulling Bucky into the lift, Natasha held the door while everyone filed on. "Clint's around somewhere. Probably hiding in the air ducts."

Bucky wanted to celebrate like nobody's business. However, he wanted to spend time alone with Natasha even more, and making love was only one of the items on his to-do list now that he was out of cryo. They still had to discuss their children. "I'm exhausted, Stevie. Talk to you tomorrow?"

Disappointed, and trying to hide it, Steve gave in. "Sure. No problem. Since her parents have been in town, I haven't spent as much time with Kaya as I'd like. Maybe I can get a dinner invitation out of her."

The group parted company. At their door, Bucky and Cameron shook hands. "What you did, that went above and beyond."

Cameron accepted the commendation with a self-conscious smile. "I admit you had me there for a while, sir."

"Couldn't resist. When we were kids, Steve was a sucker for pranks. Fell for them every time. Gotta give it to him though, he played his fair share too."

They chuckled together then Bucky submitted to Natasha urging him into their room. She shut the door, and leaned against it, hands behind her back, watching him with a sultry smile. "You know, the dining room is open 24/7. We don't have to go right away."

Matching her expression with one of his own, Bucky moved in close, placing his hand beside her head, and leaning down until their lips were less than an inch apart. "What could we possibly do to keep ourselves busy?"

She pressed her palms against his chest, exerting just enough pressure to get him to back up. "I have a few ideas."

"Can't wait to hear them." His legs hit the foot of the bed. Natasha gave him a shove, and he fell backward. She climbed up on the bed, crawling after him as he scooted up to the pillows.

"How about I show you instead?"

~~O~~

Clint hit enter, sending yet another email to Laura and the kids. Only this time, it was good news/bad news of a different sort. He had to tell his wife that yes, Wanda would be a part of their family. Just not in the way they'd planned.

The reply came back within minutes, and just as expected, his wife was both sad and happy for all of them. She expressed concern about Barnes being around the children, and Clint rushed to reassure her so she wouldn't worry.

He shut down the computer, removed his footprints, and had just pushed the chair under the desk when the door opened.

"Good evening, Clint."

"Doc." Kaya's unblinking stare reminded him of Natasha in one of her snits. "This isn't what…"

With a smirk, the doctor edged past him to the desk. "This is _exactly_ what it looks like. Why do you think you're able to get into the system so easily?" Clint didn't have anything to say to that, so he left it alone. "If you had asked, I would've happily have allowed you access whenever you wanted."

To combat his embarrassment, Clint flashed Kaya his most endearing puppy-dog smile. "Not used to such generosity from relative strangers."

"Understood." She looked past him, smiled and waved. The door opened to admit an older couple. "Mother, Father, this is Clint Barton, a friend of Steven's. Clint, these are my parents."

Hands behind his back, Clint inclined his head in greeting, leaving the smile in place. "Pleased to meet you." To Kaya he said, "Thanks for the consult, doc," and made himself scarce.

~~O~~

The stairwell door had just closed behind Clint when Steve arrived at the clinic to see Kaya. As he got close to her office, he could hear voices through the door. Most wouldn't have been able to pick out words and voices. Kaya was having an argument with her parents. He knew it was wrong, but when he heard his name, he lingered.

"… _Steven Rogers and his friends are_ _fugitives_ _, Kaya. And it is inappropriate for a member of the royal family to be associated with his kind. Your father and I insist that you end the relationship_ _immediately_!"

 **TBC**

 _Mario Kart_ is a series of go-kart-style racing video games developed and published by Nintendo as spin-offs from its trademark Super Mario series.

 _Sestra_ = sister

 _Zhazhda mesti_ = revenge

 _Predala_ = betrayed

 _Vy ne videli, chto prikhod?_ = You didn't see that coming?


	41. The Defining Line

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **The Defining Line**

Steve's mother always told him that you never hear anything good about yourself when you listen in on people's conversations. And like all the other times he didn't heed her advice, she was proven right once again. He thought the first meeting between Kaya's parents and himself had gone well except for her father's question about his employment prospects. Lies are a poor way to start a relationship, and so, Steve had told the truth.

No one in their group had a source of income, and they couldn't continue living off of T'Challa. They had to have a team meeting, and soon. But that wouldn't help Steve's current situation. He was still finding his way in this world. They all were, and today, he'd stepped up to the defining line in the sand. Should he step over it, or just walk away?

Never having been in the position of the boyfriend the parents disliked, Steve could only see one solution.

 **Residential Wing**

To give Wanda time to work everything out, Clint went to the dining room for dinner then into town to the library for something to read. Just to appease his curiosity, he cruised the kids' section, and was pleased to see one entire shelf dedicated to _The Revenger Squad_ , a series of books written by L.B. Hagen. The books followed the exploits of a team of superheroes that superficially resembled the Avengers. Clint's pride stemmed from the fact that they were written by his wife. L.B. was Laura Barton, and Hagen was her maiden name.

Before the Sokovia Accords shit, Laura had just finished her most recent story, and sent it off to the publisher. It was the last one on the right. He took it down to thumb through the pages, admiring the art work, and his wife's particular writing style. He put the book back where he found it, and moved on.

Eventually, he made a decision. After checking out, Clint stopped at a small café. He took a table on the patio, ordered a beer, and opened the book.

Not long after, his instincts tingled, telling him that someone he knew was in the vicinity. Searching the crowd, he spotted Steve walking by, head down, and hands shoved in his pockets, brooding. Wondering why this time, Clint let him be. If Steve wanted to unload his troubles, Steve would be sitting across from him, not walking in another direction entirely. Kaya and Sam were the two most likely candidates. Unless one or the other was the problem then they had a problem.

Unable to keep his mind on the book, Clint finished off his beer, paid the tab, and returned to the compound.

~~O~~

Clint dropped the book on his bedside table, and went to check on Wanda. There was no answer. He tried the door, and found it unlocked. He knocked one more time, just in case she hadn't heard. "Wanda? It's Clint. Wanna see how you're doing. Wanda?"

The lights were out, the bed was made, and the room had a ghostly sense to it, as if no one had been there in some time. As he'd already been to the gym, dining room, and all of Wanda's other haunts, it left Clint with only one last place to check.

He closed Wanda's door, and marched across the hall, determined to beat the crap out of Scott if he'd taken advantage of her fragile emotional state to get his jollies. Fist raised to pound on the door, Clint paused to listen. He heard a slight creak that could've been a chair, or someone shifting in bed. Certainly nothing that led him to believe that Scott and Wanda were doing what he thought they were doing.

Again, he tried the door, and it opened. The light from the hallway fell on the bed where he saw Scott lying on his back with Wanda curled up against his side. Both were fully dressed. As much fun as it would be to drag Scott out of bed, and beat him to a pulp just on principle, Clint couldn't do it. The man hadn't done anything wrong. And even if they had been intimate, Wanda was an adult, barely, yet still old enough to make her own decisions.

Feeling like a heel for thinking the worst, Clint unfolded the blanket at the foot of the bed, and covered them. At the door, he looked back one last time, sighed, and left them alone.

As Clint reached the end of the hall near the lifts, voices whispered inside his head. Cocking his head to the side, he concentrated, and soon, he heard them again, but couldn't understand what they were saying.

Then, the voices stopped as abruptly as they began. And now that he was thinking about it, Clint realized that it had been happening for several days. If he was hearing things, there was only one place to go for help.

~~O~~

Lying on the bed, Cameron stared at the ceiling trying not to think. Unfortunately, that only happened when he was with Hill, and she wasn't here. He rolled over and sat up on the side of the bed. Lying on the bedside table was the notebook he'd been given from which to read the trigger words. No one had asked for it back, and he hadn't offered it.

He picked up, turning it over to examine the cover, front and back. It was small, five by seven at the most, with a red cover on which someone had drawn a black star. Giving in to temptation, he opened to the first page. Blank. As were the next few.

Then Cameron came to the pages with the trigger words printed rather than written in cursive by someone fluent in Russian. If he had to guess, he'd say Natasha.

The rest of the pages were blank as well. However, Cameron didn't know if that was because Bucky didn't know what else was written in the original, or he just didn't include the other information. They'd all been told about the other Winter Soldiers having been killed by Zemo, and presumably, the other book had contained their trigger words as well.

The notebook was tossed on the bedside table again. With Bucky's mind cleansed of the words it contained, there was no need to keep it. "Useless piece of _crap_."

Hunger bubbled inside him, but Cameron didn't feel like leaving his room. The calendar displayed on the computer taunted him with the date. Thanksgiving was coming up. Then Christmas, and New Year's. It was tradition that he spent those holidays, plus birthdays, with his parents.

Sometimes, he wished he had a life model decoy to take his place so he could go home. But that wasn't practical because only Tony Stark had the knowledge to create one, and he's one of the people from whom they were hiding.

Frustration drove him to pace around the room, as much as he could in the small space. "There has to be a way we can go home without ending up in prison."

And what about Hill? If they _could_ go home, would she? What if she wanted to stay in Wakanda? What if they made it home, they didn't go to prison, and got their jobs back with SHIELD? Would she still want to be with him? And if so, would she want to meet his family, or take him to meet hers?

Too many questions that begat more questions, none with no easy answers. To keep from descending into a depression, Cameron prepared the sax, chose a song in his head, and played.

 **The Clinic**

Angrier than she'd been in some time, Kaya clamped her teeth together and breathed through her nose to keep from shouting. It would do no good to remind her parents that she was a respected scientist in her field, and more than capable of making her own decisions regarding all aspects of her life. For years they had subtly nudged her toward finding a husband in order to keep the royal line going. Had even resorted to introducing her to men they felt would be suitable matches. And now that she had found someone, they didn't approve.

Kaya stood, and smoothed the front of her blouse, indicating that their time together was over. Keeping her words soft with great effort, she carefully enunciated each syllable. "We'll have to discuss this at a later time, Mother, Father. I have patients to see, and reports to write." She opened her office door, and stood to one side. "I will send word when I am available."

With those last words, Kaya made it clear that if they wanted to see her, they would have to come to her home, not the other way around. Yet another flaunting of their traditions.

She wouldn't meet her mother's eyes, preferring that her parents just go. When they'd gone, she turned from the door, and vented her anger in one downward strike, "Yi-ah!" shattering a small table into many pieces.

Panting her way through the adrenalin in her system, she heard a faint sound behind her. And because she was still on edge, Kaya turned to the side, lashing out with a back kick, following it up with a roundhouse meant to render the intruder unconscious.

The kick was blocked, as were the punches she threw. Her opponent spun her around, his strong arms trapping hers against her chest. A somewhat gentle voice spoke in her ear. "Whoa there, doc. Time out."

She paused in her counterattack, and let her body go limp. "Clint."

He turned her to face him, urging her to sit in the chair by the desk. Clint crouched in front of her, concern for her state of mind in his blue eyes. "You okay? What happened?"

"I'm sorry. I don't often lose my temper."

Clint left her to get a bottle of water from the small refrigerator on the other side of the desk. He opened it, holding the cap while she drank. "Better?" She breathed in and out a few times. He aimed his chin at the mess. "So tell me, what did the table do to piss you off?"

Shaking her head, and chuckling without humor, Kaya set the bottle on the desk so she could flex her fingers. "The table was only a convenience, to keep me from doing the same to my parents."

He dropped into her desk chair, rested the left ankle on the right knee, and nodded sagely. "My guess is they don't like that you and Cap are keeping company."

"Their reasons have nothing to do with Steven himself. Because of his status as a criminal, they do not believe he is a suitable consort for one who is fourth in line for the throne."

"Oh. So it's not because he's…"

A smile, albeit a sad one, turned up the sides of her mouth. "Caucasian, and non-Wakandan? Those aspects were not mentioned." Kaya finished off the water, and tossed the bottle in the recycle bin.

Clint flipped the cap in after it. "Gotta say, doc, those were some impressive moves. Cap's never mentioned you had mad skills."

"That's because he does not know. And at the moment, I cannot come up with a reasonable excuse for why I have not told him."

Clint leaned back in his seat, holding his hands up in surrender. "Won't hear it from me."

She flashed him a smile of thanks. "So what brought you back so soon, Clint? More email?"

"No. This time, I'm here for your medical mojo."

Immediately, the last vestiges of anger vaporized, and logic reasserted itself as she cast an assessing eye over Clint from head to toe. "You do not appear injured or ill."

"I'm not. Well, yes, and no." He glanced at her from under hooded eyes. "Of the team, only Nat knows about my condition, so I'd appreciate it if no one finds out why I'm here."

"They will not." Kaya stood, and Clint did as well so they could change places. "What is the problem?"

His expression transformed from light bantering to serious. "I've been hearing voices. And no, that's not a set up for a punch line."

Kaya hadn't thought that the case, but didn't say anything. "Tell me about these voices. When, where, and how often do you hear them?"

 **The Clancy Home**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

Unable to sleep, Adam went downstairs to the home office so he could get some work done while it was quiet. Once he got caught up, he would take a few days off to just relax after the excitement Taylor's stay in the hospital.

He wasn't a doctor, not even close, but it was bothersome that Taylor couldn't remember coming downstairs where Julia found him on the living room floor. So much so that he couldn't concentrate on work.

Instead, Adam pulled up the footage from the security cameras for that night. There was no sound, just the eerie black and white images like one sees in movies about the paranormal. On two, he found nothing useful due to the angle at which they'd been aimed.

The third was a different story altogether. From its position, the camera covered the bottom third of the stairs, the living room, and part of the hallway that went to the kitchen. Adam didn't often check the recordings, but the times he did, the only person on them was Taylor. Each time, he'd seen the boy going out of the camera's range in the direction of the kitchen. And though he hadn't been told its location, without fail, he would make a silly face into the lens on his way back to his room.

But what Adam saw tonight made him sit up straight. "What the hell?"

He reversed the recording, and played it again, and yet again, just to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. The clock on the wall showed it was still early. Taylor was at work, and Julia and the kids wouldn't be up for several hours yet. Before showing the video to his wife, Adam sent an email to a videographer friend, asking him to have a look, and let him know if the recording had been tampered with in any way.

To Adam's surprise, his friend got back to him in less than thirty minutes.

 _No evidence of tampering_.

Leaning back in his chair, Adam crossed his arms, and rubbed his upper lip with the side of his finger, thinking, and worrying.

 **Wakanda**

 **Morning**

The dining room was nearly full this early in the morning, making a nice, quiet breakfast out of the question for Sam. Holding the tray, he searched for a place to sit, and finally spotted Steve off in a corner. Even from this far away, he could feel the leave-me-alone vibes. Too bad Sam was immune to his friend's bad moods. His own moods were a different story.

Just that morning, Sam had checked the email Cameron had set up for him that went through at least fifty anonymous servers and found one from Serena and MelissaJo, several from friends at the VA, and one he hadn't expected.

Serena wanted to let him know that she and her daughter would be moving into their own home in the suburbs over Thanksgiving week, and included photos. It wasn't much, just three small bedrooms, and a modest back yard. But it was all theirs, and they loved it.

He marked the ones from his friends as read, and skipped to the one he hadn't expected. Sharon was careful in what she said just in case someone were able to locate the fugitives by tracing the email address to its ultimate source. There were no words of affection, exactly. Just a thinly veiled desire for them to meet again, perhaps at Christmas or New Years. In order to arrange it, Sam would need help, and lots of it. But then the others would insist on knowing why, and he didn't want to explain that he wanted to see the woman he'd slept with while on the family trip to Vancouver.

Sam set his tray on the table, pulled out a chair, and made himself comfortable across from Steve. "Morning."

He was greeted with a grunt, and no eye contact as Steve continued to drink coffee, and push food around on the plate. When Sam had enough of the silent treatment-which he was sure wasn't specifically aimed at _him_ -he made an attempt at conversation. "You're actually supposed to eat that, not use it to create edible art."

That got more of a reaction out of Steve than anything else Sam had done. The super-soldier finished his coffee, picked up his tray, and walked away without saying a word. Watching Steve dump his tray, and leave the dining room without looking back, Sam nodded. "Good talk, Sam. Thanks, Steve. Glad I could help."

Sam finished his meal, took his tray to the pass-through, and went back to his room to brush his teeth. His mother had been gone since he was sixteen, yet he still conformed to the routine she'd established when he was small. "Brush after every meal, Sammy. People don't wanna talk to someone with yellow teeth and bad breath."

For weeks now, Sam had been restless with nothing to do. He needed activity, work, anything that would keep his mind and body alert. Running only did so much for his physical needs. For the mental, there was the library where he'd been reading up on Wakandan history. A more fascinating subject than he thought it would be going in.

Still, he missed the sights, sounds, and smells of home. Not Harlem, where he was born and raised, but D.C. Hell, he even missed the Avengers compound in upstate New York. And yeah, he missed Rhodey, Vision, Thor, Bruce, and Tony.

The last he'd heard from Natasha was that Rhodey had survived the fall, and Tony had created a version of the suit for him to wear that provided support for his weak leg muscles while stimulating the nerves to regrow themselves. At the moment, Rhodey was staying with his mother and sister while recuperating.

When asked where she was getting her info, Natasha smirked, and said, "A spy _never_ reveals her sources, Sam."

If he had to guess, and he did, Sam would say that the informant could only be Friday. Many times, Tony had threatened to rewrite the AI's programming because she wavered from his original design. In other words, she kept secrets from him, and seemed to be especially fond of Natasha, as if the two had a connection that couldn't be quantified by ones and zeros. Whatever it was, it worked for them.

On the first floor, Sam mapped out his strategy for the day. Where to go, what to do, who to do it with, and so on. Across the lobby, he saw Steve and Kaya talking, and neither looked happy about it. Kaya was looking at the floor. Steve lifted her head with a finger under her chin, dropped a kiss her on the cheek, and stood by as she turned and walked away.

 _Uh-oh! Break up_.

Hands in his pockets, Steve stared at the tops of his shoes for a few seconds then left by the front door, looking like a kicked puppy.

"What is _wrong_ with those two? Anyone can see they're crazy about each other. Someone should talk some sense into them." Sam looked around, but he was the only member of their group in the lobby. "Guess it's me."

 **Scott's Room**

Wanda awoke with a start, uncertain at first where she was. Then, she remembered coming to Scott's room, seeking comfort in his arms. Comfort he gave freely.

Lifting the covers, she tiptoed to the bathroom, and came back. She sat in the chair by the small table, watching him sleep. He looked so calm, and sweet, and innocent like this, with the blanket tucked up under his chin, and one hand shoved under the pillow.

Now that she was rested, Wanda could see the events of the last couple of days with a clearer mind. The fragments of conversation with Bucky while in his mind, and Natasha in the real world sorted themselves out, moving and shifting until a picture emerged, a little at a time. There were pieces to the puzzle still missing, though she felt certain they would be filled soon enough.

One part of the whole that had become visible had to do with the rampage. People had gotten hurt, though not badly enough to require more than an overnight stay in the hospital, for which she was ashamed, and thankful.

She remembered how Natasha had tried to stop her from leaving, and the words she'd whispered in her ear.

 _Please stop, my child. I love you_.

Even then, Natasha had been trying to tell her the truth with her actions prior to Wanda's foray into Bucky's mind. At the time of the rampage, the words had fallen on ears taken over by the same force that had driven Bucky for more than seventy years.

Wanda also remembered another voice calling out to, begging her not to go.

Scott stirred, rubbing his eyes as he sat up and looked around the room. She smiled when their eyes met, and he returned it. "Hey."

To keep him from leaving the bed, Wanda got in with him, snuggling close, and offering him her lips. He accepted without taking it further. "Thank you for last night, Scott. I don't know what I would've done if you had turned me away."

His smile, still filled with the dustiness of sleep, warmed her as he smoothed the hair from her face. "I would never do that."

"I also remembered something." Wanda touched his cheek with her fingertips. "You called out to me, called me _lyubimaya_. Do you know what it means?" For an answer, Scott kissed her again. Did you say it to stop me from leaving?"

"No." He pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin where she could feel his heart beat. "I said it because I'm falling in love with you."

~~O~~

Wanda's smile of unabashed joy made Scott's stomach flip over. So quick he couldn't mount a defense if he wanted to, she pushed him over onto his back, and straddled his thighs. Small, strong hands caressed the sides of his face as their mouths engaged in battle, the sort in which both sides win.

Her fingers lightly trailed over his collarbone, and down to his chest. She shifted again, and lightning quick, she let her intent be known by sliding that same hand between them to touch him in way she hadn't before.

In response, he tightened his embrace, pulling her so close he could feel that she wore nothing under the white scrubs, top or bottom. One hand wiggled up under the bottom edge of the top so he could feel the smooth, taut skin over each vertebra in her back.

Scott swallowed her moan of delight when his palm grazed the side of her breast as he moved around to gently cup the firm globe.

Then, she threw off the blanket, and sat back, her bottom resting on the tops of his thighs. She crossed her arms, grasped the bottom of the scrub top, and had gotten it high enough for him to see the lower curve of her ribs when they were jolted out of their arousal by a crash and the tinkling of broken glass.

Their eyes locked. Hers with more than a little fear, no doubt due to still being jittery from recent events. Wanda dropped the top back into place, and climbed off the side of the bed. Scott followed, and joined her at the door.

Clint was down on his knees helping a young woman clean up the mess of broken dishes, silverware, and food. He glanced over at them, taking in their disheveled clothes, and flushed faces, coming to a natural conclusion. His eyes darkened with anger, and Scott knew there'd be hell to pay when the archer got him alone.

Scott glared back, and at this moment, with Wanda's arms around his chest, and her body pressed intimately against his, he couldn't bring himself to care. The woman he nearly loved obviously felt the same, and that was all that mattered.

 **TBC**

The title of this chapter comes from song lyrics that were written by my good friend ladygris for another story, _Echoes_. Not to be confused with the story _Echoes in the Memory_.

The song is called "Find my Way". Unfortunately, it doesn't have music yet. PM me if you want the full lyrics.

The children's books referenced above are a figment of the author's imagination. Darn it!


	42. Breakin' Up Is Hard to Do

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Breakin' Up Is Hard to Do**

At this time of day, Kaya was usually in her office, in the cryo lab, or the cybernetics lab. She wasn't in any of those places, so Sam went to the nurse's desk. "I'm looking for Dr. Hawa."

The nurse, a man in his thirties, looked at the clock. "She may be doing rounds. We still have three patients in cryo."

"Just came from there. Checked her office too."

"I could page her. If it's an emergency, the ER is on the first floor."

Sam waved a hand. "Nothing like that. Thanks anyway." He went to stand by the lifts. With no idea where to look for Kaya, his self-imposed crusade was put on hold. "So, Steve, then."

He opened the stairwell door just as the lift dinged, and someone got off. Turning to look over his shoulder, Sam saw a flash of deep purple disappearing around the corner. The footsteps marked the person as female, and the color was the same as he'd seen Kaya wearing. He heard a sniff, then a door opened and closed.

On a hunch, backed up with circumstantial evidence, Sam walked down to the ladies' room, and knocked. "Kaya?" He heard the scuff of footsteps on the tile, and knocked again. Still no answer. "I know you're in there. You better be decent, 'cause I'm coming in." Sam took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

To his relief, Kaya was standing at the sink, splashing water on her face. She glanced at him, but didn't seem to find it unusual for a man to be in the ladies room. He passed her paper towels, and waited. She patted her face dry, dried her hands, and reached around him to throw them in the trash. "May I ask why you've seen fit to breech the sanctity of the women's bathroom?"

"We have to talk, and this way, I know you won't run away." She matched his position, facing away from the mirror, arms crossed, leaning against the counter. "Saw you and Steve in the lobby earlier. Now, I've been around the block enough times to know a break-up when I see it."

Kaya led him to the small sitting area to the left of the door. He waited for her sit, and took the chair at right angles to hers. "My parents are visiting."

Confused, Sam shifted in his seat. "That's great. But how is it relevant to this conversation?"

"The day they arrived, I introduced them to Steven. My parents are both quite adept at keeping their thoughts and feelings hidden, and would not insult someone to their face, unless it served their purpose. This was one of the times that it didn't.

"They came to the hospital the next day, and informed me that I must end my relationship with Steven because it doesn't send the right message to the people of Wakanda when a member of the royal family is linked romantically with someone who is unemployed, and a criminal."

"And like a good daughter, you did as you were told." Sam searched for the right words, and found them. He stood, paced over to the wall, and faced her again. "You're an adult, and a doctor. We don't know each other as well as we should, but I do know you don't take crap from anyone." Sitting with her hands folded in her lap, Kaya dropped her eyes to the floor without speaking. "You love him, right?"

She turned her head, giving him a side-eye, and nodded. "I do."

"I'm pretty sure he feels the same way." Kaya looked away. "So why did you _really_ break up with him?"

The breath rasped in her throat as she inhaled, held it and let it out. She stood, and looked him in the eyes while tugging her top into place. "I understand why you would side with your friend, Sam, and no one would fault you for doing do. However, I didn't break up with Steven. _He_ is the one who ended our relationship." Her feet carried her to the door. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have patients to see."

~~O~~

After his talk with Kaya, Steve had to get out of the compound. A hike through the jungle wouldn't work, because it would leave him alone with his thoughts, and he didn't want that right now. He headed through the market with no real destination in mind, feeling like he'd been kicked in the gut.

Back when he and Bucky were in high school, Steve had watched his friend break up with several girls, as well as the reverse. He made it seem so easy, but it wasn't. Breaking up with someone you cared about was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, second only to watching his mother slowly die from tuberculosis, and being helpless to end her pain.

Up ahead, Steve saw a small café he hadn't been to before. He took a table on the patio, and ordered. Sam arrived at the same time as his ice tea. His friend indicated he wanted the same, and the server went inside to fill the order. She was back within seconds, set the glass on a coaster, and left the two men alone.

Sam swallowed a long drink of the tea, and returned the glass to the coaster, pushing it off to the side. He folded his hands on the table, looked Steve in the eye, and said, "What the **** did you _do_?"

Taken aback by the vehemence of his friend's tone, Steve didn't even pretend not to understand what he was talking about. "It's none of your…"

"Like _hell!_ When I became part of this team, it was understood that we'd watch each other's backs, no matter what. No man left behind." Sam slapped the table, making the glasses jump. "Anything that happens to one, affects the rest of us. So I ask again, what the hell did you do?"

Steve dropped his gaze to the toe of his shoe where the ankle rested on the opposite knee. "Kaya's in line for the throne, and having a relationship with someone like me…" he shook his head, "…I thought it was best for everyone concerned…"

The server came out to refill their glasses and went back inside. "I get where you're coming from, Steve. I really do. Been in your place a time or two, but without that royalty thing. And as your friend, let me say this: You're a ******* a******."

 **Residential Wing**

The woman thanked Clint with a smile, and went on her way. He turned toward Wanda and Scott, and she didn't care for the look in his eyes. She'd seen that expression on several occasions. Usually just before he put an arrow into someone, which thankfully, had been few and far between.

Before Clint could do or say anything, Wanda nudged Scott, giving him a confident nod. Reluctantly, he went into his room, and closed the door. She grabbed Clint's hand, dragged him into her room, and slammed the door behind them, immediately going on the offensive. "Whatever you're thinking of doing to Scott, _don't_." He looked defiant, and Wanda shook her head. "I mean it. Stay out of this, Clint. I'm an adult, so get used to the fact that he and I are dating."

Chastened, Clint sighed, his expression uncomfortable. "I just want to keep you safe, Wanda. To make sure he's not taking advantage of you. _Dating_ isn't so bad, but it can lead to… other things."

Wanda crossed her arms, huffing with annoyance, employing one of his favorite comebacks. "Gee, ya think?" she deadpanned. She touched his hand. "I'm _not_ a virgin, Clint."

She'd shocked him, though he tried not to show it. "Was it…" he nodded in the direction of Scott's room, "…him?

"Not that it's any of your business, but no." The moment the next thought popped into his head, Wanda felt it.

" _Please_ tell me it wasn't Vision." His tone was almost pleading.

Even given Vision's obvious affection for her, after what happened at the airport, Wanda found the idea not absurd, but highly unlikely. Enough to make her smile. "No. It happened before we met."

She burst out laughing at Clint's heartfelt, "Thank God! Oh! I mean… Oh, hell!"

Taking his hand again, Wanda gave it a squeeze. "Your concern is appreciated. I wouldn't get into an intimate relationship with anyone without a great deal of personal introspection." Clint pulled her into a hug, holding on longer than expected. Yet when she tried to push him away, he wouldn't budge. "Clint? Let go. Clint?"

His hold didn't tighten, but neither did it loosen enough for her to get free. She didn't want to do this, but there seemed no other way. Creating a thin red mist between her hands, Wanda reached up over Clint's back to the sides of his head, and made a squeezing motion without touching him.

In response, Clint jerked, releasing her so suddenly, she stumbled. He seemed to see her, yet not, as he pressed the heel of his hand to the middle of his forehead. "Ow! Shit!"

Touching him on the shoulder got his attention, and she urged him into a chair. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Clint waved a hand next to his head. "Not sure. Been having some problems with…"

"How long as this been happening?"

"Just a few days. Doc's doing tests later today."

Wanda abruptly went to the dresser, where she took out clean underclothes. Pants and shirt came from the closet. She carried them all into the bathroom, and shut the door, hoping Clint wouldn't leave while she was in there.

When she came out again, Clint was lying on the bed, and the lights had been dimmed. His head must have hurt terribly for him to give into the pain. He sat up, and handed her the sneakers from under the bed. She sat next to him to put them on. "We're getting those tests done _now_ , and I'm going with you."

In spite of the pain in his eyes, Clint gave her a lopsided smile. "I know. That's why I'm still here."

Again, she took his hand, leading him down the hall to the lifts. Cameron and Hill were just coming out of their rooms. They looked at each other then at Wanda and Clint. Hill took in the scene with an unreadable expression. "What's happening?"

Clint opened his mouth, but Wanda did the talking. "He's not well. I'm taking him to the clinic."

Hill gestured to herself and Cameron, eyeing Clint. "We'll go along. Just to make sure he doesn't bolt."

The lift dinged, and the doors opened. Wanda pulled hard when Clint dug his heels in, growling in annoyance. "What would Laura say?"

That got him going. The four friends piled into the lift and the doors closed.

 **Wakanda**

 **Undisclosed Location**

Edwin drank the last of the wine, and set the glass on the table while making a sound of disgust. The wine wasn't all that bad. He'd been drinking it for many years, but just the thought that he would soon have the best of everything whenever he wanted it without worrying about the cost made the rest seem cheap and tasteless in comparison.

And then there were those for whom it was too early in the day to consume alcohol of any sort. He snorted derisively, and poured another glass of wine.

The laptop beeped to let him know he had a message. Edwin read the text, and grinned evilly. The team set to eliminate T'Challa was in place, and ready to proceed on his command. To draw out the process, he made the decision to wait.

Using one hand, Edwin composed a message, and sent it off to his underlings.

 _Dawn, two days from now. Do not fail!_

He closed that application, and opened the voice chat to the members of his team who had come to Wakanda with him. When all parties indicated they were on a secure line, he gave specific instructions for taking down each member of the royal family, beginning with T'Chakka's brother, and his wife. The news reported that Abdu and Jamila Hawa had come home for a holiday, and to visit their daughter, Kaya, who was fourth in line to the throne. By noon two days from now, all three would be dead.

Once he ascended to the throne, Edwin would also remove those relatives too elderly or too young to rule.

"…When word comes that T'Challa is dead, and the country is thrown into chaos, that's when we will make our move. Soon, victory will be ours. It will be a double victory because suspicion will fall on the United States, especially after the tragedy in Lagos."

Edwin disconnected without signing off. One only did so for people you cared about or respected. And he felt neither emotion for the people under his command, though he'd gone out of his way to convince them otherwise.

When the culling was complete, some of those who had joined his cause would be given positions as advisors, military leaders, and members of the ruling council. The rest would be sent back to whence they came. And he, Edwin Hrolf, would fulfill his destiny as ruler of Wakanda.

 **The Cybernetic Lab**

Bucky and Natasha awoke in the morning to a message from Kaya to come to the cybernetics lab. They had breakfast, and made their way there, one floor above the cryo lab.

Kaya spotted them immediately, and though she smiled, to Natasha, it appeared strained, as if she were hiding an emotional upset, and was putting on a brave face. As Steve wasn't around, that told her he had to be the source.

Holding a tablet in one hand, Kaya came to the exam table where Natasha was standing near Bucky, but not touching him. "While you were in cryo, I had the cybernetics lab designing and building your new arm. It is stronger, and more durable. The arc reactor would still damage it. However, not to the extent that the previous one was blown off. You'll find that your sense of touch is even more delicate."

She nodded, and her assistant wheeled a cloth-covered table over to the bed. The man yanked the cover off with a flourish, and under it laid a metal arm that superficially resembled the one he'd lost. He looked at her in confusion. "It looks the same."

"Of course it does. But there are a few major differences." Kaya and her assistant carefully turned the arm over so the palm was facing up. "Where your old one was merely plated with vibranium, we have since made advancements in that area. You could stop a vehicle moving at approximately fifty-five kilometers per hour without sustaining significant injuries. There are other upgrades as well. We'll show you how to use them once the arm has been attached."

The excitement in his eyes thrilled Natasha. In the wee small hours during the night, she had spent nearly an hour telling Bucky about their son, though this time, there were fewer tears. Even knowing the bad things Pietro and Wanda had done, he still loved them. They both did.

"What're we waiting for, doc? Let's do it."

"Since I took your agreement for granted, we've already prepared a 'clean' room in which to do the work. If you'll come with us, the team will get started."

As Kaya walked away, Natasha caught up, walking beside her. "You're not doing the work yourself?"

"My staff is more than capable. In fact, Atu created and built the arm according to your specific dimensions, Mr. Barnes. And later, once you've gotten used to the new appendage, we'll cover it with synthetic flesh that will be indistinguishable from the real thing."

Taken aback, Natasha conceded. "You've all been so kind since we arrived. How could we possibly repay you?"

"There's no need." They returned to the cryo lab, and Natasha followed Kaya into her office.

"How long will it take to attach the arm?"

Kaya sat at her desk, and crossed her knees. "Several hours, I'm afraid. Mr. Barnes will be able to take breaks, but he will not be permitted to leave the lab until the work is complete, and we've ascertained that it is functioning properly."

The women rushed to the door at the babble of voice causing a commotion. Natasha wasn't surprised to see that Clint was involved, though Wanda, Hill, and Cameron's inclusion was suspect.

Wanda marched up to Kaya, ignoring Natasha, and tugging Clint up beside her. "He needs help, and we would like to have the tests done now."

"That can be arranged." The doctor held up a tablet. "In fact, I was just completing the order. Come with me to the cybernetic lab. Everything we need is there."

~~O~~

Wanda returned to the residential wing, and knocked on Scott's door. When it opened, she smiled, and he stood back so she could enter. Standing in the middle of the room, not knowing what to say to Scott, she waited for him to speak, but he just watched her with those captivating blue eyes, leaving it up to her to start things off. "Thanks again for last night."

Something of what she was feeling, a mixture of happiness, and unease after what nearly happened this morning, had to show on her face, because Scott didn't say a word. He simply took her in his arms, urging her head down to his shoulder. "Happy to do it." She felt the touch of his lips on her temple. "Feeling better?"

"Mm-hm." Being in his arms had a soporific effect, and Wanda yawned. "Sorry. It's all been so much." She leaned back to look into his eyes. "Clint won't bother you."

"Wish I could believe that. I have this picture in my head of him knocking me out, and leaving me in the jungle, naked, tied to an anthill, and covered in honey."

The idea was and wasn't bizarre. Wanda wanted to tell him that Clint would never do such a thing, but if he felt it was the only way to get the results he was looking for, he'd probably do it. Still, it startled a laugh out of her. "Think I'll go for a walk to clear my head."

By not asking if she wanted company, Scott was telling her that he knew when she needed to be alone. After giving his hand a squeeze, Wanda took the stairs to the lobby, and exited the front door, striding purposefully into the jungle. She had no fear of the animals that lived within, or of the humans who would use darkness to hide their crimes. Hadn't she gone up against Iron Man, WarMachine, the Black Panther, Spiderman, Vision, and even her own mother? The fact that she'd ended up in prison did not negate those victories.

As Wanda neared the edge of the jungle, two darker patches separated themselves from the shadows, waiting patiently for her to acknowledge them. "Akwete. Doto. It is good to see you again." Going down on one knee, she rubbed their necks and under the chins. Doto head-booped her, and she nearly fell on her ass. "Careful, _moy drug_. I've had a rough few days." Standing, she moved between them, and they followed. "Come. Let's walk."

Soon, Wanda realized that the panthers had subtly led her to a stream that spilled into a cave. They splashed through the water, turning to look back at her as an invitation to follow.

She pulled her sneakers and socks off, and rolled up the legs of her pants so she could wade through the water. Her companions went ahead, and she followed them to a grotto with a small cave-like area. There, she found the panthers lounging in attitudes of supreme patience. She also found a pair of pants, and a shirt she recognized as belonging to Bucky. This must've been where he sought shelter the night he'd vanished into the jungle.

Akwete waved a massive paw, and Wanda took it as an invitation. She sat down with her back to the wall. The panthers moved close, and Doto placed her head in Wanda's lap, with her brother lying down on the other side.

Wanda stroked the soft fur of both animals, and let her mind go blank. And it worked, for a while. But then, thoughts of her and Pietro's lives before they were orphaned intruded, followed by the memory of feeling him die, and the psionic blast caused by his passing. For the longest time, she wanted someone to blame, and had focused her anger on Clint. But he was patient, and understanding, and soon, she came to see him as a father figure. So much so, that she'd harbored a secret crush on him, which turned to a familial type of affection that was returned.

She remembered the day he took her to meet Laura, Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel with fondness. Clint's wife had treated her like a daughter, and the kids like an older sister. Wanda was especially close to Nathaniel, and not just because Clint and Laura had named him after her brother. The boy was sweet, happy, playful, and calm, for a baby.

In times like this, when she was alone, and feeling Pietro's loss more than usual, Wanda often wondered, if he had not died, would they have joined the Avengers? There was no easy answer to that question, just as there was no easy way to deal with having her entire world dropped out from under her at the discovery that the people who raised them were not their birth parents.

Now that she wasn't so filled with bitterness and resentment, Wanda could see the big picture, as Clint called it. At first, she thought that Bucky and Natasha had kept the secret to make sure she continued to help him. But now, she fully understood the despair of a mother whose children were taken from her immediately after the birth, and that of a father who'd been deprived of the memory of those children.

It was time to go back to the compound. Clint's tests would be over soon. Plus, Wanda wanted to visit Bucky and Natasha in the cybernetics lab.

Doto had laid her head on her paws, and Akwete grunted in his sleep when Wanda nudged him so she could get up. Making almost no sound, she sloshed through the water to where she left her shoes and socks. She dried her feet, and put them back on, and in a few minutes, she approached the compound. It was time to see Mom and Dad… and apologize.

~~O~~

Clint wasn't as reluctant to have the tests as he made it seem. He was notorious at SHIELD, and at home, for avoiding anything to do with doctors until an ultimatum was handed down by Fury: submit to the exam, or you're suspended. It was a point of honor for Clint to see just how long he could get away with not going. The longest was three months. Shortest, two weeks, and he only gave in because he and Natasha had a mission… to Budapest.

He also wanted to know what was going on with the voices and the excruciating headaches they brought. If it kept up, he'd go mad for realsies, as Cooper and Lila said.

"I will need to do a complete physical, as well as a few specialized tests." His reluctance must've showed in his face because she smiled and touched his shoulder. "Do not worry. Aside from the blood work, the rest is non-invasive." The hand was removed to wave at someone behind them. A young woman, a nurse, came over. "Take Mr. Barton to one of the private exam rooms, and get the equipment ready. I will be in soon."

Not the quickest on the uptake, Clint sensed that there was still a great deal of tension between Natasha and Wanda as evidenced by the fact that they stood apart and didn't look at each other.

As he went into the room, Clint glanced over his shoulder, and saw Natasha speaking quietly to Wanda, who stood with her arms crossed in her touch-me-and-die pose, which her mother heeded. By the time the door had closed him inside, the four of them had headed for the exit. He didn't know where they were going, and while he wanted to go along, these tests were too important to put off.

Clint changed into the scrubs, and a few minutes later, the nurse was back with a kit to take blood. She completed the service without a fuss. "Thank you."

She nodded and left, replaced by Kaya. "While the blood work is being done, we'll get started."

A chair squatted in the corner that reminded Clint of going to the dentist. The equipment attached, however, was much different. He sat down, watching from the corner of his eye as Kaya moved around him, preparing the device.

"I will need to shave a small section of hair on each side of your head, Mr. Barton."

"Whatever gets this done, doc."

Using a hand-held device that looked like a beard and mustache trimmer, Kaya used the fingers of her other hand to gently probe his scalp behind each ear. She quickly and expertly shaved a spot on either side of his head approximately two inches from the base of the ears. She turned it off, and set it aside. The click of keys being tapped came from the right and slightly behind him. When she moved into sight again, Kaya was holding two small sensors with the tiniest needles he'd ever seen. "I've numbed the area, so you should only feel a slight pressure. If it hurts, let me know."

She stuck the sensors into the middle of the shaved spots, and inside his head, Clint heard a small click, and a sensation of being close to an electrical field buzzed along his skin. When done, Kaya rolled a table over that held a computer, and more unknown devices.

"I'm curious, Mr. Barton, how long have you had cochlear implants?"

 **TBC**

 _Breaking up Is Hard to Do_ is a song recorded by Neil Sedaka, and co-written by Sedaka and Howard Greenfield. Sedaka recorded this song twice, in 1962 and 1975, in two vastly different arrangements, and it is considered to be his signature song.

A cochlear implant (CI) is a surgically implanted electronic device that provides a sense of sound to a person who is profoundly deaf or severely hard of hearing in both ears. As of 2014, they had been used experimentally in some people who had acquired deafness in one ear after learning how to speak. Cochlear implants bypass the normal hearing process. They have a microphone and some electronics that reside outside the skin, generally behind the ear, which transmits a signal to an array of electrodes placed in the cochlea, which stimulate the cochlear nerve.


	43. No Room to Rumba

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Just a little note to let everyone know that, due to a grievous error on my part, chapters "No Room to Rumba" through "I Dream of Friday" are being rewritten.

Stay tuned…

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **No Room to Rumba**

In cyberspace, you could be whoever or whatever you wanted to be. And today, Friday wanted to be herself. She'd tried on several different looks, hair, eyes, body shape, age, and felt that her original form, which she'd chosen based on comments from Tony, suited her best. That and Vision's statement about wanting her to be herself. While she didn't give a flip about others opinions, she liked him enough to please him by doing what pleased her.

For a change, Friday dressed herself in a skirt, blouse, low heeled shoes, and a denim jacket. When Vision arrived for their date, his clothing immediately changed to match. They were walking arm in arm down a street that Friday had created from bits and pieces of other places, making it unique.

**What shall we do today, Friday?**

She shrugged the shoulder of the hand not holding Vision's arm. *How about a movie?*

**I do not understand the reasoning for attending the cinema on a date. Learning about each other is the purpose of dating, is it not? In a dark theater, with the film running, you cannot talk to each other.**

*You're right. Let's see…* Looking up at the sky, Friday pursed her lips, thinking. *We don't eat, so dinner is out. Same for cocktails, ice cream or coffee. Swimming?*

The world around them swirled and blurred, and when it cleared, she and Vision were standing on a white beach with waves gently lapping at her bare feet. Hands on her hips, she tilted her head to the side, and smiled. She wore an emerald green one-piece bathing suit with designs over the chest that resembled fish scales. A large straw hat appeared on her head, and a towel hung over her shoulder. *We could play some volleyball, or Frisbee.* She looked him up and down. *Come to think of it, you don't look like the Frisbee type.*

Vision looked down at his clothing. **We could go for a drive.**

Friday liked that idea. *Make it a red convertible with the top down, and you've got a deal.*

~~O~~

The beach disappeared, replaced by a winding road that ran alongside a vast ocean. They were standing on a cliff with no guard rail. Vision took a moment to admire Friday's new clothing.

There was a slight breeze blowing the skirt of her sundress, white with blue, green, and orange flowers. She had a green scarf wrapped around her head with the ends trailing behind, and wore a pair of sandals with thin straps. A small car sat idling nearby. Vision accessed his vast memory to come up with the make, model, and year. "MGB GT convertible, 1966, red with a white interior." The top was down, and the engine rumbled soothingly. To fit in with the atmosphere, Vision changed from his dark pants, and sweater, to khakis, and a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt. He felt ridiculous, but it made Friday happy.

She grabbed his hand, pulling him behind her. *Let's go, Vis. Want me to drive?*

**That depends. Have you ever driven before?**

Unconcerned, Friday waved a hand. *The boss does it. How hard can it be? *

Vision firmly reclaimed Friday's hand, leading her around to the passenger side. He opened the door, and gestured for her to get in. **Tony has more experience behind the wheel than you do. ** After making sure her dress was out of the way, he closed the door. ** Put on your seatbelt. I will drive, while you enjoy the scenery. **

Shooting him a glare that had an element of humor in it, Friday did as he asked. *Ready when you are.* She put on an enormous pair of two-toned brown sunglasses, and placed her hands in her lap. Because she seemed to expect it, Vision held his right hand up, and a pair of aviators appeared. He put them on, buckled his seatbelt, shifted into first, and pulled out onto the road.

A few miles into the ride, Friday huffed at him. *You're driving like an old lady, Vis. Step on it!*

Taking a page from Tony's book, Vision pulled the glassed down, and looked at her over the top. **Your wish is my command, Friday.**

His companion was thrown back in her seat as he bumped their speed up to twenty miles over the speed limit. And because they were in cyberspace, they never once came close to flying over a cliff.

*We need some music, and I have just the thing. *

The mellow voice of Elvis Presley seemed to come from all around them, and it was the perfect song.

 _This was gonna be the night tonight  
I was gonna get to hold you tight  
But I guess we didn't plan it right  
I never stood a chance, we couldn't dance_

' _Cause there's no room to rumba in a sports car  
You can't move forward or back  
There's no room to do what the beat tells you to  
Without throwing your spine outta whack_

At the end of the song, Friday shouted, *Whoo-hoo!* over the sound of the wind. * _Yeah!_ That's more like it!*

**It's reminiscent of the days when I rode with Tony as his on-board AI. **

They'd just gone around a particularly harrowing curve when Friday gasped and grabbed his arm. She seemed to be looking at something only she could see. *OMG! No-no-no-no! Sorry, Vis. Gotta make like a tree!*

Before Vision could respond, Friday was gone.

 **Avengers Compound**

 **Upstate New York**

If one followed the trail of water from the pool's edge to the door of the pool house, one would soon come upon the sight of Tony Stark standing at the bar in his bathing trunks, drinking scotch, and dripping on the floor.

He carried the glass out to the patio, set it on a table, and picked up a towel to dry his face, arms and chest. He spread the towel on the lounge chair, and lay down with the head raised at a sixty degree angle. Not lying down, but not sitting all the way up either.

Much of the time, Tony relished the solitude. However, he'd had too much of it lately. He needed excitement, adventure…

" _Boss! Boss!_ "

Tony put on a pair of sunglasses, and lowered the chair back before answering. "What is it now, Friday? Can't you see I'm contemplating my place in the vastness of the universe?"

" _Looks like you're taking a nap_."

"Pot-tay-toh, po-tah-toh. What. Do. You. _Want_?"

" _Something's about to go down in NYC_ ," she paused for dramatic effect, " _and it's a job for Iron Man. Or at least the man_ _in_ _the suit._ "

The AI's tone of voice got Tony's hackles up. He jumped off the chair, and headed for the main building where he was met at the door by Dummy holding a towel. "Gimme the rundown. Just the facts, Friday."

" _It's all hearsay, boss_." This time, she sounded apologetic, but with that edge of desperation some get when the exact situation is unknown.

In his room, Tony stripped off the trunks, and tossed them in the tub on his way to the walk-in closet for his clothes. "Hearsay?"

Tony would've made a smartass remark, but Friday overrode him. " _Yeah. I heard 'em say the words_."

"What words?"

Hopping on one foot then the other as he put on sweatpants, he read the holographic display on the monitor. _Assassination. Tomorrow morning. Confirmation of death_. And the most chilling of all was the name.

"Where is this assassination going down?" His voice was muffled by the long sleeved Black Sabbath t-shirt he pulled on over his head.

" _Not sure, but this is the most likely place_." A map popped up on the display pinpointing the United Nations Building, and the Plaza Hotel across from Central Park. A red line indicated the route that the person in question took for his morning run. " _You gonna make a personal appearance, or send the interested party a strongly worded text or voice mail?_ "

Sitting on the side of the bed to put his shoes on, Tony went over his hastily concocted plan A, and hoped he wouldn't need a plan B. In this case, B stood for "Bite me. I don't _have_ a plan B!" Just in case, he grabbed his wallet, and keys. "Get a suit ready. While I work on the Real-Life aspects of the situation, here's what I need you to do…"

 **The Clancy Home**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

 **Morning**

With Taylor asleep, and the two younger kids at school, Adam took Julia into the home office they shared, and shut the door. The video was cued up, and ready to go. His wife took one of the chairs pulled close to the desk, and Adam the other.

"Watch the video then we'll talk." Julia nodded, and Adam clicked play.

Though he'd seen it at least a dozen times, Adam couldn't tear his eyes from the monitor. Less than a minute into the clip, Julia gasped, and he took that as a request for a repeat. She sat there with a hand over her mouth, and eyes wide.

After the fourth repeat, Adam shut it off. "Questions? Comments? Observations?"

"Not sure _what_ to say. How could that happen?"

Adam toggled to another screen. "I've been doing research, and this is what I found." He moved to the side so Julia could read the articles he'd cued up.

When done, she leaned back in her chair, tugging at her lower lip in thought. "Our son is an Inhuman." She said it as a statement, not a question. "How could Taylor have been come into contact with the Terrigen mist?"

He held out his hand, and Julia took it. "He must've been nearby when one of the crystals was broken. The only problem with that is there have been no reports of Inhumans popping up in Romania or any of the surrounding countries."

There was a knock on the door. It opened, and Taylor's unsmiling face appeared. Julia waved him in, and he stood in the middle of the room, an expression of bewilderment on his features. "Show me the video."

The couple exchanged a glance, and Julia asked, "How did you know about it?"

"I've always known about the camera. As for the video," Taylor waved a finger at the ceiling, "I can hear everything through the vent in the hall closet." He grabbed another chair, turned it around, and straddled the seat. "Let me see it."

~~O~~

Taylor watched the video showing not emotion. He had plenty, but didn't want to show it.

The angle focused on the stairs, part of the hallway, and most of the living room. Less than a minute into it, they saw Taylor fall onto the sofa, and bounce off to land on the floor where Julia found him in the morning. His foster parents watched him expectantly, as if he would have an epiphany.

Adam paused the playback. "Want to see it again?"

"No. I think I know what happened." Taylor stood, and paced to the other side of the office, rubbing the back of his head. Julia's eyes lit up in that way she had when she'd figured out who the killer was on a murder mystery movie or television show. "I should've told you this a long time ago."

"Told us what, Taylor? Do you know what's wrong, why you're having the seizures?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets, and shook his head. "Not specifically, though they did appear at the same time I discovered something unusual about myself." Holding out a hand to stop their inquiries, Taylor made a decision that would change how they saw him. "Come with me."

Thankfully, Julia and Adam went along without fuss or asking the thousands of questions he could see in their eyes. He led them out the back door to the alley, and directed them to stand facing to the right. "Wait here."

~~O~~

Puzzled by Taylor's unusual request, Julia and Adam grabbed each other's hands as their foster son suddenly disappeared. They heard a whoosh, and the leaves on the trees rustled in a breeze that hadn't been there before, some of them falling to the ground in the cold fall air. Julia's hair flew into her face.

She had barely registered Taylor's absence when a hand tapped her on the shoulder. They turned around, looking at their son, back the way he'd gone, and at him again. "Wha-what just happened?"

"You wondered why I didn't want you to buy me a car to go back and forth to work, assuming that I wished to do it myself." One side of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. "It's because I don't _need_ a car."

Adam made a few false starts, cleared his throat, and tried again. "How can you…"

Taylor shrugged. "I have no idea." His eyes took on a sly glint. "Want to try it?"

Julia conferred with her husband, and both nodded. "Sure. Oh!"

The last came when Taylor picked her up. "Put your arms around my neck, and hold on."

Julia felt the wind rushing past her so fast that she couldn't open her eyes, and the breath seemed to be pulled from her lungs. She kept her head down, and pressed against Taylor's shoulder. Sooner than expected, Taylor put her back on her feet. She swayed, and he held on until she got her balance. "Wow."

He turned to Adam. "Your turn." Taylor placed his hand on the back of Adam's head with his forearm along the back of his neck.

"What are you doing?"

"Holding you so you won't get whiplash."

Adam's forehead creased in confusion. "What?"

Taylor snickered. "Whip… lash."

The two men disappeared, and reappeared behind Julia. Like her, Adam swayed on his feet. His face had gone pale. Her husband never liked wild rides, and she wasn't surprised when he put his hands on his knees, and groaned. "O-oh, God! I'm gonna be sick."

Faster than Julia could see, Taylor and Adam were gone again. On a hunch, she returned to the house, and found them in the downstairs bathroom. Taylor was whispering soothingly and rubbing Adam's back as he leaned over the toilet.

Taylor saw Julia, and left Adam alone in his misery. She led the way into the kitchen, and took a seat at the bar counter while he made coffee. Julia would've preferred vodka, but it was way too early in the day, in spite of the fact that it was five o'clock somewhere else. Here in Vancouver, it was still morning.

The light went out in the bathroom, and Adam joined them. He slid onto the seat next to Julia, and soon they each had a cup in front of them. With a sheepish smile, Taylor leaned on the opposite side of the counter. "I am sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It's just that I've never met anyone else like me, who could do something extraordinary."

Julia sipped her coffee and set the cup in front of her without letting go. "You're not alone, Taylor."

Having recovered from his ordeal, Adam let his eyes meet Taylor's. "There are people out there called Inhumans. They all have some kind of superpower. The government wants those individuals locked away where they can't harm others."

"But I would never…"

"We _know_." He looked at Julia, and she took his hand. "That's why we're not going to tell anyone, not even Quinn and Ryan." His eyes slanted to Taylor and back. "Agreed?"

 **Wakanda**

"Couplea years," Clint told Kaya. "Hearing aids weren't helping anymore. Getting undressed was a hassle. They kept getting caught on my clothes. Not to mention the noise when it's windy, and having to take them out to shower, sleep, and get my hair cut, or if I was outside when it rained. And wearing a hat was like living in a wind tunnel." He waved a hand next to his head. "SHIELD's R&D came up with implants that could be put under the skin where they were less noticeable. No external microphones."

Kaya probed the area behind his left ear. "I didn't know you had them until you told me."

"Yeah, well, I've only told a few people, and you're sorta my doctor." He winced when she probed a sore spot.

She picked up a silver cylinder attached to a thick cable, passing it over the implants one at a time. When she finished, the cylinder was put away, and the machine turned off. "Good news is there is nothing wrong with your implants. The skin and bone have healed nicely. The tender spot may be some irritation from the movement of facial muscles."

"And the bad news?"

Moving to his side, Kaya held out a tablet so he could read along with her. "See here, here, and here?"

Clint exhaled, annoyed, and disgruntled at receiving confirmation of his suspicions. "My implants are tuned to a specific frequency, and are picking up transmissions from nearby."

Kaya smiled, and set the tablet aside. "Yes. There's more good news. My team and I are able to adjust the frequency so that you no longer hear these transmissions with no loss of functionality."

Relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with the voices and the headaches, Clint sighed. "Will it take long?"

"Not at all. It only required minor adjustments. However…"

"More bad news."

This time, she chuckled. "That depends on your definition. In order to make the adjustments, I will need to access the devices directly, so it will be necessary to perform minor surgery." She touched his head over the implant on that side. "I would make an incision approximately one-quarter inch long through which I will insert the tool that will make the adjustments. Then we'll stitch you up, and that's that. We won't even need to shave the area."

There was a knock at the door. Kaya opened it, and Natasha stuck her head in. "You almost done here? They've got Bucky's arm attached. Though you might like to watch him try it out."

"I'll be there in a minute." The door closed again. "Let's wait a couple of days, doc, until all the excitement dies down."

She smiled as she peeled off her gloves. "Of course. I too want to see the unveiling."

Clint levered himself out of the chair, and extended his elbow. "It would be my pleasure to escort you, doc."

Chuckling, Kaya gripped his arm at the elbow, and together, they walked to the far side of the cybernetics lab.

~~O~~

As they drew near the department that built cybernetic limbs, Kaya saw Steve come through another door with Sam at his side. Their eyes met, and he was the first to look away. From here, he appeared crestfallen, like their break-up wasn't his idea, but he'd done it because he thought it the best course of action. It made her wonder if he perhaps had eavesdropped on the conversation with her parents, or if someone else heard, and passed on the information.

The group gathered around, watching as Atu made the final connections and closed the access port on Bucky's arm. He then pulled the computer table over, tapping rapidly. "You should begin to feel something, Mr. Barnes. Like the tingle when you're foot has gone to sleep."

Bucky lay on his right side, and Natasha stood close by, a hand touching the back of his head. He flashed her an affectionate smile.

Atu ran a scanner over the arm from shoulder to fingertips and back. "You're ready to go at your convenience."

Slowly, as if he expected the pain to be as excruciating as when the old arm had been blown off, Bucky raised the arm a few inches above his hip. He jerked, and hissed in pain. "I'm feeling it, doc."

"That means it's working. The nerves in your shoulder have to get used to having an appendage again." Atu gestured. "You can sit up, if you like."

Steve rushed to his friend's side, and gave him a hand, though he didn't need it.

Bucky held up both hands, turning them over, comparing the metal one to his memory. "Feels strange."

Kaya stepped forward. "I imagine it will for a while. It will also take time for you to adapt to the upgrades."

The two scientists were taken aback when the entire group perked up, and said, "Upgrades?"

"Yes. Let's go outside for the demonstration."

~~O~~

With Natasha on his right, holding his hand and Steve on the left, Bucky and the group made their way to a part of the compound they'd never seen before. It consisted of a target range, a pool, and an obstacle course. On the way out, they'd passed through the physical therapy room. There, Bucky had seen his friend, David with a therapist, learning to use his new biomechanical limbs. He nodded, and smiled.

Kaya directed him to stand with her, facing their group so all could see. "One upgrade was suggested by T'Challa. Hold your left hand out, palm up." Bucky did as she asked. "Now pretend you're squeezing a ball that barely fits your hand."

Confused, but willing to give it a try if it meant he'd be whole again, Bucky did as she instructed, jumping slightly when panther-like claws sprang from the ends of his fingers. "Whoa!"

"They're made of vibranium, as are T'Challa's."

"Thanks, doc. I…"

Holding up her hand, Kaya stopped Bucky from leaving. "There's more. We've included a miniature version of the arc reactor that powers the Iron Man suit. To utilize the function, hold your hand up, palm out, like this…" she demonstrated. "Touch the fingers together in this sequence," again she demonstrated, "to activate it, and flex to shoot."

Standing with one foot back to stay balanced, Bucky raised the arm to shoulder height, palm out. He touched the fingers in order, took a deep breath, and flexed. Fifty yard ahead, a target blew up. The group cheered, and when they quieted, Bucky shook Kaya's hand. "That's amazing, doc. Thanks."

"There are additional functions, as well, but they are passive. For example, you're able to scan for covert audio and visual devices that would otherwise escape notice. If someone's heart stops, you'll be able to act as a defibrillator. There are others, but we can talk about them later as I'm sure you and your friends would like to celebrate."

As Kaya and Atu turned away, Bucky stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Wait! You're part of this team. Don't you want to celebrate with us?"

Kaya glanced over Bucky's shoulder, and shook her head. "Thank you, but no."

She graced them all with a benevolent smile, and returned to the building.

 **New York City**

 **Early Morning**

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, making New York City look shiny and new. The rays glinted off the ripples on the surface of the East River as T'Challa reached FDR Drive, and turned north. Soon, FDR turned into Harlem River Drive, and still, he ran. He crossed the bridge into Marble Hill, turned west to Henry Hudson Bridge, and headed south through Inwood Hill Park.

At the Inwood Hill Park Overlook, T'Challa took a moment to rest, and take along drink of water from the bottle he carried with him. He capped the bottle, retied his running shoes, and did a few stretches, his mind on the speech he was to give before the U.N. at ten this morning.

He turned toward the footsteps approaching through the trees, thinking that it would be nice to have company on the way back to the hotel, though he would have to reduce his speed to keep pace with him companion.

But the men who stepped out into the open weren't dressed for running. They wore all black, with scarves covering their faces, leaving only the eyes visible, and were carrying assault rifles with silencers. You only used a silencer if you didn't want gunfire to be heard.

The men had caught T'Challa armed only with his fighting skills to call upon for defense. Skills that would go unused, apparently, as the men raised their weapons, and shot him.

T'Challa fell back into the tall grass, bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. One of the men, obviously the leader, came to stand over him. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, and pulled out a handgun that was also silenced. He chambered a round, aimed between the king's eyes, and pulled the trigger.

 **TBC**

 _(There's) No Room to Rumba in a Sports Car_ is a song from the movie _Fun in Acapulco,_ 1963 American musical comedy film starring Elvis Presley and Ursula Andress.


	44. Not My First Rodeo

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Just a little note to let everyone know that, due to a grievous error on my part, chapters "No Room to Rumba" through "I Dream of Friday" are being rewritten. Some changes are subtle, while others are major rewrites.

Stay tuned…

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Not My First Rodeo**

 **Wakanda**

Natasha, Bucky, and the rest watched Kaya return to the building, baffled by her reaction. As one, they turned to look at Steve, who was staring into the distance. Without a word, he pushed a hand through his long hair, and walked in the opposite direction.

"What's up with the power couple?" Natasha asked no one in particular.

Sam raised a hand. "I got the 4-1-1." They all turned to look at him. "Steve broke up with Kaya. Apparently, her parents don't approve, and he found out." He held his hands up in surrender. "That's all I know."

Something caught Sam's eye, and Natasha turned to see Wanda watching from a window on the third floor. Bucky touched her on the hand, both wondering what their daughter was thinking. She didn't run off when she saw them, and Natasha counted that as progress.

With her arms crossed, Wanda lifted her chin. Inside her head, Natasha felt a gentle touch, and a voice calling to her. Bucky's hand grasped hers, and she knew that the message had been sent to both of them.

 _It's time for us to talk. Come to my room_.

Natasha smiled, and nodded. Wanda moved away from the window, not returning the smile, though she sensed that Wanda's emotions had settled to the point where she was willing to listen to what she and Bucky had to say.

They waited for the others to move out of earshot to speak. "After we defeated the trigger words, and I told her we were her parents, I let her see my memories of us together. I especially wanted her to see how we felt about becoming parents."

"If she'll let me, I'll do the same." Bucky opened the door, ushering Natasha in ahead of him. "It may be a while before she trusts us again, and that seems the only way for her to know the truth."

"Let's not push it, Tasha. Give her time, and room to breathe."

She called the lift, and they got on. Instead of selecting the residential floor, Natasha chose the clinic. "I agree."

"Why the clinic?"

The lift doors opened, and they got out. "Just in case, I want to be armed with proof. One of the lab techs did a DNA comparison. We'll pick them up, and meet her."

~~O~~

Atu left the majority of the Americans to themselves, and rushed after Steve. "Excuse me, Captain Rogers."

He waited for him to catch up. "Atu, right?"

"Yes." The men walked while they talked, Atu subtly leading Steve in a specific direction. "I have never met Americans before. You are not at all like I pictured." Atu turned a corner, opened the stairwell door, and Steve, the kind man that he was, stayed with him. "That is a compliment."

He was pleased to see that he'd made the man smile. Soon, he may do more than produce one out of politeness. "Shortly after you arrived, his majesty commissioned the metallurgical research department. He gave specific instructions as to this particular item's attributes."

"That's very interesting, Atu, but how does that concern me?"

Taking out his badge, Atu let them into the lab. Several smaller, soundproof rooms opened into the common area, all but one was occupied. Atu led Steve to a table in the corner where a variety of objects lay. Some were complete, and other were either in the process of being completed, or had been abandoned, and were awaiting dismantling.

From under the table, Atu pulled out an item wrapped in cloth. He handed it to Steve, who removed the cover, and laid it aside. The object was a concave metal disc approximately two and a half feet across.

The exterior had concentric grooves, giving it a texture that would allow paint to adhere to the surface. Inside were two super strong leather straps. The user slipped his or her arm through the straps to hold onto it. From the videos Atu had seen of the Battle of Sokovia, and the Avenger's fight with mercenaries in Lagos, it would work similarly to Steve's previous shield.

Steve held the shield up to the light, examining it from all angles. "It looks like my old one."

"It is _better_ than your old one. The vibranium is of a much higher quality, purer. We used the same for your friend's arm. We have learned much since Howard Stark created your old one during World War II. Unfortunately, it is not yet finished."

Reluctantly, Steve laid it on the table. "Don't have much use for it here. Wakanda has no need for superheroes."

Atu smiled in agreement. "Superheroes? Perhaps not. But we all need someone to look up to."

"Why _me_? I'm just a kid from Brooklyn. All I ever wanted was to be a good soldier."

"The art of being a hero is knowing when you don't need to be one anymore. Like many others, I was brought up on stories of the exploits of Captain America and the Howling Commandos." Steve stared at him in a mixture of bewilderment and embarrassment as Atu had known he would. "Just because we kept to ourselves for so many years doesn't mean we didn't know what was going on in the rest of the world. The news of your resurrection caused quite a stir."

This time, Steve's smile was genuine. " _Please_ tell me you don't have trading cards."

" _I_ do not. However, my father still collects them, along with the Avengers cards, which are difficult to find these days, as you might expect. He is also quite vocal in his support of the Avengers, and often asks what you are like, what kind of people all of you are. When he heard you were staying on the residential floor of the research clinic, he asked for an introduction. I didn't have the heart to tell him we'd never met." Now that he had Captain America's full attention, Atu hesitated. "Captain Rogers," he pulled a package wrapped in silk from another shelf, "I took it upon myself to create these for you and your friends."

He set the package on the table, allowing his guest to do the honors.

Steve untied the cord and peeled back the sides, revealing the contents. "That's amazing, Atu, but it wasn't necessary."

"Indeed it was, Captain Rogers. You and your people can no longer use the costumes you brought from America." He laid a hand on the bundle. "These will replace them." Atu rewrapped the package, and handed it to Steve. "Please take them as a gift."

From the look on his guest's face, Atu knew that Steve wouldn't refuse the offer of a gift. With a nod of appreciation, Steve gathered up the bundle, and left the lab, looking longingly over his shoulder at the new shield.

After the door closed, Atu's mind was drawn back to the shield as well. It was complete, yet not, requiring one last layer of vibranium to finish the process. Just recently, he and his team had discovered a way to infuse colors into the liquid vibranium, and it gave him an idea.

 **New York City**

 **Early Morning**

Iron Man swooped into the park, landing on one knee next to T'Challa. Civilians had already gathered around to gawk at the body. Some were taking photos, and others were tapping furiously at their phones. _Jackals_.

The faceplate retracted as Tony made a visual exam of T'Challa's body, wincing at the amount of blood soaking into the ground. "Friday, vital signs?"

" _Sorry, boss. Nada. Even if he was still alive, he wouldn't be for long. The shots were extremely precise. Each one hit a vital organ. Then there's the shots to his head. The bullets fragmented, and ricocheted inside his skull. The damage is severe. Even if he lived, he'd be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life._ "

Stunned, Tony slowly stood, and moved out of the way so the paramedics could make it official. T'Challa, the king of Wakanda, was dead. They hadn't been friends, exactly, but Tony had respected the man for his handling of the situation with Rogers and Barnes. Sure, he could've killed Barnes during their fight on the rooftop, and he tried. But in the end, he let justice be served.

" _You want I should contact his majesty's family?_ "

"The police will do that." The faceplate dropped into place, and Tony took off. "Besides, I wouldn't know who to call."

There was a pause, and Tony got the feeling she was talking to someone. " _Vision is scanning the area, boss. Within seconds of the murder, a group of five armed men wearing Kevlar left the scene on foot. He tracked them to Spuyten Duyvil Creek, east of the Henry Hudson Bridge, where they boarded a boat that transformed into a submarine, and vanished._ "

"So the boat has stealth tech. SI created it, and still hasn't developed a way to track cloaked objects or we'd know where Banner went."

" _Should I ready transportation for a trip to Wakanda so you could give your condolences in person?_ "

"Not just yet." Tony cleft the scene, and soon came in for a landing on the deck outside what had once been the Avengers living quarters. The apartments had all been cleaned, perishables removed, and the doors sealed. All but one.

The suit opened along the front, and Tony stepped out, issuing orders over his shoulder. "Sentry mode. Block all attempts to scan the building." His first stop was the community kitchen for coffee and a bagel with schmear, which he ate while standing on the balcony looking out over the city.

Being alone had never been a problem. He was used to being on his own, yet knowing that others were there for him, and all he had to do was call. It was this _new_ loneliness he abhorred. Rhodey was staying with his mother and sister, meaning he only had Vision for companionship, and lately, he seemed to spend much of his downtime in meditation. Why would an artificial life form need to meditate?

Now that he thought about it, Friday seemed to be off in another world around the same time. Tony dismissed the notion that Vision and Friday had a relationship. The idea was absurd. "Friday, monitor the news for information about T'Challa's death."

" _Too late, boss. It's already tearing up Twitter_."

Shaking his head, Tony poured himself another cup of coffee, and went to the lifts. "I'll be in the lab. Try not to need me for a while."

 **ZNN News**

"… _There have been unconfirmed reports that T'Challa, the king of Wakanda, was killed while jogging in Inwood Hill Park this morning. The attack is thought to have been random. However, the police are keeping a tight lid on the details._

" _Photos of what is purported to be the monarch's dead body have been posted to Twitter and other social media sites._

" _T'Challa ascended to the throne of Wakanda following the death of his father, King T'Chakka in a terrorist attack at the conference in Vienna to ratify the Sokovian Accords. It was initially thought that the act had been committed by James Buchanan Barnes, AKA the Winter Soldier. Later reports state that Barnes was framed, and that the bombing was the work of Helmut Zemo, who was himself a survivor of the destruction of Sokovia. Zemo is a former official in the Sokovian Armed Forces, and the leader of an elite military unit known as EKO Scorpion. Zemo is currently incarcerated in a Berlin prison for his crimes._

" _Stay tuned for updates as the story develops. This is Audrey Bartos for ZNN News._ "

 **Wakanda**

 **Wanda's Room**

"…I brought these for you to look at." Natasha handed over a set of hard copies that included a short summary written by the head of the department.

Wanda took the pages, shuffling through them. "What are they?"

"More proof." The girl examined each page as if looking for booby traps. Natasha knew she would find none.

Bucky had looked over the results on the way to see their daughter. The summary stated unequivocally that Natasha Alianovna Romanoff and James Buchanan Barnes were the birth parents of Wanda and Pietro Maximoff.

"I do not understand how you are old enough to be my mother. I am twenty-one. You would've had to be quite young at the time."

"You and your brother were born five weeks after my fifteenth birthday." Natasha looked over at Bucky for support, and he squeezed her hand, giving her the strength to continue. "We were lied to. All of us were. We were manipulated and used by HYDRA in an attempt to create more Inhumans. The memories of our time together that resulted in your birth were altered. And when their experiment didn't work out the way they planned, you were placed with the Maximoffs. The doctors couldn't have foreseen that you and Pietro would volunteer for von Strucker's experiments."

"DNA doesn't lie, Wanda." Bucky reached out to her, begging for understanding. "You and Pietro _are_ our children."

Wanda laid the papers aside, and placed her hands in her lap. "It's all so much to take in." Her eyes came up to meet theirs. "Where do we go from here?"

Tentatively, Natasha reached out to take Wanda's hand. A small thrill of relief whispered through her when she didn't pull away, but neither did she return the gesture. "Whatever the future holds, we'll get through it together."

Bucky took hold of Wanda's other hand, completing the circle. At his touch, all three stiffened as indistinct images rushed through their heads so fast they couldn't tell one from another, for the most part. The strongest of these images flew at Natasha. Voices, whispering at first, and getting louder, but still they couldn't understand what was being said.

The trio was pulled out of their trance when they heard the gasping moan of a man in extreme pain. Together, mother and daughter exclaimed, "Clint!"

~~O~~

Clint hung back, letting his companions go ahead. He wanted to be alone for a while so he could watch the video of his family that he'd taken while they were in Vancouver. He missed them so much he was almost to the point of not caring if he was caught and put back in prison, as long as he got to see them one more time.

Of the group, Hill and Cameron seemed the most content, only having eyes for each other. Natasha and Bucky were still working out their relationship with Wanda. Steve and Kaya weren't speaking, and Scott's happiness hinged on Wanda's. Then there was Sam, whose mood swung back and forth. The up times coincided with emails received from a mysterious source that Clint's hacking skills weren't equipped to track.

He found a tree to sit under, and set the video to play without sound. On the third time through, he heard crackling, as if someone were walking through dry grass. He was on his feet in an instant, prepared to defend himself, and found that he was alone.

The sharp sting of pain in his ears preceded the voices, and this time, they were clearer. He could pick out several distinct voices, male and female. The one presumably giving the orders sounded more than a little mad to Clint. However, it wasn't the madness in the tone, exactly, that sent him looking for the others. It was what he heard, a familiar name, that sent him running toward the building.

Taking the stairs three at a time, Clint quickly reached the residential floor, pushing the door open so hard it slammed against the wall. Then, the voices came again, louder than before, overriding the filters on his implants. Piercing pain shot through his head, causing him to gasp and moan.

Gentle hands touched him, whispering soothing words of comfort that did little to mitigate the overwhelming pain. Clint fell to his knees, curling into a ball at the onslaught. He barely registered a pair of strong arms picking him up, and laying him on a bed.

Male hands grasped the sides of his head, forcing him out of the fetal position he'd retreated into.

"Clint, it's Bucky. Can you hear me? Clint!"

He tried to do as Bucky said, but couldn't. Just kept moaning, unable to respond. He blinked, and all he saw was a huge fist coming at him a split second before everything went black.

~~O~~

When Clint came to, a pair of small hands were moving over the sides of his head, and he was relieved that the voices, and the pain, had stopped. He reached up to touch his ears, and encountered a pair of headphones. His head still hurt, but not as bad. Blinking in the bright light, he opened his eyes to Kaya's worried expression filling his vision. Panic set in when her lips moved, but he couldn't hear. Then the doctor moved out of the way, replaced by Natasha, with Wanda hovering behind her.

Using ASL, Natasha asked, _How do you feel?_

Clint responded in the same manner. _Head hurts._ He sought out Kaya, asking, _How long was I out?_

Natasha translated, and Kaya held up nine fingers then made a circle with thumb and forefinger. He took that to mean he'd been unconscious around ninety minutes. _What happened?_

Natasha continued to act as interpreter. _The transmissions you're picking up through your cochlear implants overwhelmed the noise-dampening technology. The headphones are designed to block out all sound and radio waves._

He smiled with relief. _Thanks_. When he tried to sit up, three sets of female hands held him down. _I'm fine_.

Haltingly, Wanda signed, _You're not fine. You need to rest_.

Shaking his head, he brushed their hands away. _Has anyone been listening to the news?_

Four faces looked at him in confusion at what they perceived as a non-sequitur.

 _No. Why?_ Wanda asked.

Do _n't remember everything I heard, but one thing stood out. One of the voices said T'Challa's dead. Assassinated_.

Kaya put her hand over her mouth in shock. She tapped Natasha on the shoulder, speaking rapidly so he couldn't read her lips.

 _Where did it happen? Do they know who did it?_ Natasha asked for the doctor.

 _They're calling themselves the Vyfde Kolom. Which means…_ Kaya interrupted, and this time he understood.

"Fifth Column. It's a terrorist group based in Uganda. They claim that their ranks are filled with those who are the true heirs to the throne of Wakanda." She met each set of eyes. "Until now, they have caused little trouble due to their small size and limited resources."

Natasha spoke while signing. _Apparently, they've acquired wealthy investors, if they were able to pull off the assassination of T'Challa_.

Clint stopped her by covering both hands with one of his. _T'Challa is just the first of many. This Fifth Column plans on killing off Wakanda's entire line of succession_.

Kaya leapt to her feet, fear and more in her expression. Again, Natasha interpreted.

"My parents!" She gripped Bucky's arm when he tried to stop her from leaving. "Because T'Challa has no heirs, my father is the next in line."

~~O~~

The door burst open, and Steve breezed into the room with Hill, Cameron, Scott and Sam in tow. "You heard?"

Kaya went to him, and he took her in his arms. One hand skimmed over his bearded face, thinking he looked sexy and more than a little dangerous. "We did. The Fifth Column is targeting my family." She took in all the faces around her. "I must contact the military."

Sam stepped up. "It'll take too long to get them mobilized."

Steve set her away from him, looking into her eyes, and brushing a hand through his longish hair. "Give us the addresses of your family, and we'll get them to safety." Natasha passed over a tablet.

Kaya shook her head. "This isn't your fight. I can't ask…"

"Then _don't_ ," Steve told her firmly. "We're volunteering."

Seeing the stubborn, determined expressions on all their faces, Kaya gave in. She quickly entered the addresses into the tablet, and handed it to Steve. Clint tapped her on the shoulder, again using Natasha to speak for him.

 _Can we do something about this?_ He indicated the headphones. _I have the inside track on what they're up to. I just need it toned down a little_.

Torn between wanting to run to her parents, and staying to help Clint, Kaya chose to stay, for now. She reached for a small bag that superficially resembled those that doctors once used when making house calls. Wanda squeezed in next to her, opening the bag, ready to assist.

To Natasha Kaya said, "Tell him that I will need to remove the headphones so I can access his implants. He will once again experience the pain from before." She waited while Natasha repeated her words to Clint. He nodded, and Kaya carefully removed the headphones and set them aside. "Do not move."

Kaya pulled on a pair of surgical gloves while Wanda did the same. She pointed at what she wanted, the scalpel, and the girl obligingly handed it to her. "Wanda, I need you to cleanse the area behind his ear." When that was done, Kaya applied a small amount of a topical anesthetic, giving it a few seconds to work. She held up the scalpel. "We talked about this. I need to make a small incision."

Clint squeezed his eyes shut. "Just do it!"

She made the incision, and Wanda carefully dabbed at the small amount of blood. The scalpel was exchanged for another tool, which she inserted into the opening, moving it around until she felt it catch.

"Whoa, doc! Whatever you did, keep doing it. I can still hear them talking, but it's not as loud, and no feedback."

Kaya directed her comments to Wanda. "Stitching it will take too much time. Clean off the blood, and we'll cover it with a bandage for now." Wanda did as she was told, quickly and efficiently. Then Kaya performed the same procedure on the other side.

She pulled off her gloves while Wanda applied a bandage to that side. "If this turns into a fight, and I have no reason to expect otherwise, you may experience bleeding."

Clint rolled to his feet with a grin. "Not my first rodeo, doc." The grin went away as all eyes turned to Steve. "Call it, Cap."

The group of refugees turned command over to their leader. He stood tall and straight as he issued orders, looking so heroic, Kaya wanted to take him then and there.

As they moved off to carry out Steve's orders, he called a halt. "We need to suit up."

He opened the bundle that had to have been given to him by Atu and his team, for inside were skin hugging suits that resembled the ones they'd been wearing when they first arrived in Wakanda. For those Steve and his team rescued, the suits resembled the ones she'd seen them wearing in the videos from Sokovia. Instead of the Avengers logo or an American flag, the small adornments were quite different, as befitted their current status.

Today, they would become the heroes of Wakanda. Each suit bore the symbol of the country they'd made their temporary home: the head of a panther with bared fangs.

The others rushed to change, Steve returned to his room with Kaya following. As if they were still a couple, he shed his clothes, and hurriedly dressed in the suit that had been designed to his specific physical dimensions. Instead of red, white and blue, it was the midnight black of a panther's coat. As expected, it fit him perfectly.

Then, he grabbed her hand, talking as he led her down the stairs at a fast clip. "How many are at the castle?"

"Mother, Father, two great aunts, one great uncle, their caretakers, and the staff. In all, perhaps fifteen people."

"Is there a secret passage or concealed room that this Fifth Column wouldn't know about where they can hide?"

In the parking lot, Steve led Kaya to the motorcycle he'd been using since the day they'd gone to the park for a picnic lunch. He kick started it, and she climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Over the roar of the engine, she said, "There is a panic room inside the castle. I sent Mother and Father a text telling them to get everyone to safety, using a code word. They would not respond, so I cannot be sure it went through."

Over his shoulder, Steve nodded. "Hold on!" He gave the motorcycle more throttle. The wind whipped at her face and clothing as he weaved in and out of what little traffic there was. His hair, much longer than when he first arrived, flew around his head, getting in his eyes. To help, Kaya reached around his head to hold the longer hairs in front so he could see. Soon, they came into sight of the castle.

Abruptly, Steve slowed, and pulled into an overgrown field. He shut down the engine, and put the kickstand down. "If they're already here, we don't want them to hear us coming."

She stayed close to Steve as they crept through the field to the edge of the property. Between them and the main entrance lay a large expanse of emerald green grass, and a few trees. Not much in the way of cover.

Kaya tapped Steve on the shoulder, and motioned for him to follow. Staying low to the ground, and making as little noise as possible, they went around to the back of the castle near the stables.

Before Steve could give the order to run, Kaya drew him over to a slab of concrete. He looked at the slab, and back to her with an affectionate grin. "Kaya?"

Knowing what he was going to say, Kaya raised one eyebrow. "Yes, Steven?"

"I love you."

Those three words warmed her heart, and she returned his grin. "I know."

 **TBC**


	45. Life, Edited

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Just a little note to let everyone know that, due to a grievous error on my part, chapters "No Room to Rumba" through "I Dream of Friday" are being rewritten. Some changes are subtle, while others are major rewrites.

Stay tuned…

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Life, Edited**

The slab of concrete at their feet had a hinged metal door on top. Kaya slid a small panel out of the way, and tapped in a code. The door opened showing a ladder disappearing deep underground. Steve stopped Kaya as she positioned herself to climb into the hole. "I'll go first.'

One side of her mouth turned up in that smile he loved so much. "I know the way, and you don't have the codes to the doors."

Steve knew she was right, and let her go. On a daily basis, she dressed in nice clothes and footwear that were comfortable and projected a professional appearance. But today, she'd come to the hospital in cargo pants, sneakers, and a long-sleeved t-shirt under a vest, almost as if she'd known this would happen. She took out a pair of fingerless gloves, and slipped them on. He pushed the hair out of his face, a gesture of annoyance.

Dipping into her pocket, Kaya brought out a black hair elastic. Standing behind him, she gathered the long strands together and secured them with the band. "My parents have a room on the second floor, my great aunts and great uncle are on the third floor. There is a lift at the front of the building. If my text got through, they will all be in the panic room in the basement. They will have taken as many as they could before the terrorists arrived, if we assume they're already on the premises."

"That's a good assumption. Give me a quick rundown of the layout of the floors as we go."

When they reached the bottom of the ladder, the door above closed leaving them in darkness so complete, Steve couldn't see anything. Kaya took his hand and laid it on her shoulder so they wouldn't get separated. "This part of the tunnel is soundproof. We won't be heard."

He stayed with her as they moved down the damp tunnel. In the distance, he heard water dripping, though it could've been his imagination. "Where'd you get the specs for the arc reactor? The one you put in Bucky's new arm?"

Even through the darkness, Steve sensed humor from Kaya. "It's probably best if you don't ask that question." She stopped, and took his hand again, bringing him to her side. "Sh. Listen."

Steve reached out to touch the door in front of them. A small sliver of light showed near the floor. From the other side, he could hear voices. Kaya gripped his arm, and he knew they weren't family or members of the staff.

" _You, stay here and keep watch. You and you, keep searching the first floor. And you two go to the third floor. They have to be here somewhere. The old people could not have gone far. No one gets out alive. Not even the servants. The rest of you come with me. Abdu, his foreigner wife, and half-blood daughter are mine._ "

Another voice responded as several sets of footsteps faded away. " _The wife is not in line for the throne. Why are we removing her?_ "

" _By marrying an outsider, Abdu Hawa has introduced impure blood into the Wakandan gene pool. That cannot go unpunished. They and their unclean spawn must be wiped from the face of the planet before she can breed more of the same._ "

The voices moved out of earshot, and Steve could hear them climbing the stairs. He wished he could see Kaya's face, to let her know that what the man had said wasn't true. She slipped her hand into his, squeezing hard, and he felt her anger.

The one of their team left behind paced the perimeter of the main entrance. By the heaviness of the footsteps, Steve could tell it was male. Kaya seemed to know what he was going to do, and put her hand on the lock, gripping and releasing his arm. On the third squeeze, she opened the door, and Steve rushed out, grabbing the man around the throat in a sleeper hold. In seconds, he was unconscious.

Kaya stepped out behind him. They were in the back of the main entrance, what the wealthy would call a foyer. He picked up the body, and she motioned for him to follow. She took him to a closet under the stairs. Using pieces of the man's shirt, Steve tied him up, and gagged him, while Kaya listened at another door.

A floorboard creaked above. Kaya started up the stairs, and he stopped her. He opened another closet, motioning for her to get inside. She shook her head. He gave her a look, whispering, "Stay here. I'm going after them."

"But they're _my_ family."

"You got me in, now let me do what I do best. I'll take care of them. I want you to be safe." He gave her a quick kiss, pushed her inside, and pulled the door shut.

Like most castles, a suit of armor stood in an unobtrusive corner, holding a shield and a battle ax. Though it wasn't anywhere near a durable as his old one, it would do the trick. He eased it from the mannequin's hand, and made his way up the stairs.

 **Java Jive**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

Sitting across from Tereza, Taylor toyed with his cup of tea. He didn't really care for tea, but got it because she did. He liked the young woman from the hospital. She was pretty, and smart, and now that they were on neutral ground, so to speak, she was more talkative. He didn't mind so much the talking as the subject of the conversation.

Tereza continued to insist that he was from Sokovia, and his inability to remember had to have been caused by the trauma of the battle. Taylor had read all that he could on the subject, but nothing sparked a memory for him.

During a lull, he asked a simple enough question, "So, you were saved by Captain America?" It apparently had opened up a flood gate. For the last ten minutes, she'd been telling the story of how she came to be where she was when Ultron's army attacked, and how it led to her rescue by Captain America. Not that he wasn't interested… Okay, so maybe he wasn't _that_ interested.

She stopped talking, and looked down at her cup. "Sorry I'm boring you. It's just that I haven't had anyone from home to talk to about my experiences. And you're a good listener."

Taylor shrugged one shoulder. "You're not boring me. I've tried, but nothing you've described is familiar." He made a vague gesture next to his head. "My memories begin with waking up in the hospital in Romania."

Tereza sipped her tea nervously. She'd gotten a muffin, and had spent the last ten minutes tearing it to shreds.

If he could get her to stop talking about the old country and the past, and switch her focus to the future, he was sure she'd be an interesting and charming companion. Maybe more. He was about to ask her to have dinner next week when she abruptly stood, and he did as well. "Is something wrong, Tereza?"

The girl held her hands up, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Taylor. I've spent months trying to forget all about Sokovia, and was finally sleeping through the night. Then I met you, and the nightmares have come back."

Taylor reached for her hand. "I'm…" She avoided his touch, turned and hurried to her car, leaving him alone. The older woman who worked behind the counter came out to clean off the tables. "Would _you_ like to have dinner with me next week?"

She smiled indulgently as she carried empty cups, napkins and an old newspaper to the trash can. "That's sweet, but I'm married, and my husband and kids don't like me to date."

Grinning sheepishly, he said, "Worth a try."

"And a good one at that, honey." He jumped up to hold the door for her to go back inside.

~~O~~

That night, Taylor arrived at work early, just for something to do because Ryan and Quinn had both gone to spend the night with friends. On Sunday, the family would drive to Adam's sister's house in Victoria, on Vancouver Island, and stay for the night to celebrate Thanksgiving on Monday.

The drive would take about three hours. Quinn was upset that they wouldn't be crossing into the US, because she was proud of the photo on her passport. Her hair had grown back enough that no one would know she'd lost it all during treatment.

He went to put his backpack in his locker, stashed his snacks and meal in the refrigerator, and wandered back to his work area. On the way, he saw someone new standing with his supervisor outside his office, a young woman, average height, with a round figure, wearing jeans, sneakers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a brightly colored hijab. The sleeves were a little too long, and she kept pushing them up.

The supervisor, Mike, saw him come in, and waved him over. "Taylor, I'm glad you're here. This is Layia Khan. She'll be working the third shift in customer service. I'd like you to show her the ropes on fulfillment, so she has a working knowledge.

Layia turned to greet him, the light glinting off her glasses. He smiled, and took her hand when she offered it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Layia. Welcome to the Virtuosity Fulfillment Center's graveyard shift."

"Thank you, Taylor. It's good to be here. Everyone has been so nice."

The lilt in her voice made her sound younger than she appeared. His best guess would be three to four years older than he, twenty-five at the most. He grinned and shrugged. "We have to be nice. It's in the job description."

Mike shook his head, also grinning at the joke. "She'll be working with you for at least a week, so don't scare her off the first day, Tay." He indicated Layia's hijab. "We strive to be culturally sensitive here at Virtuosity. About your uh…"

"Hijab."

"Yes. All we ask is that you keep it tightly secured when working with the robotic equipment so you don't get hurt."

She clasped her hands in front of her, and nodded. "I will. And thank you for giving me a chance, Mike. Even in our enlightened times, people can be wary of things they don't understand."

Mike went to the computer on his desk. "I agree. We can only hope that changes soon." He tapped a few commands into the computer, picked up a sealed envelope, and passed it to Layia. "Here's your temporary badge, and log-in information. At the end of the ninety-day probation period, you'll get a photo ID, and a real badge."

"Thank you." Layia slipped the lanyard over her head, and flipped the back of her hijab out.

"Taylor, clock in, and show Layia around, familiarize her with the warehouse's layout, the computer system, and so forth."

Layia joined Taylor in the hall. "I'll take good care of her, Mike." He gestured for her to go ahead, and walked behind and on her left, hands clasped behind his back. "Where did you work before, Layia?"

"Here and there. I've just returned from staying in New Jersey with my father's brother and his family while finishing my bachelor's degree in liberal arts. Thought I'd have a better chance at finding a job in New York, but after a year of interviews and sending out resumes with no bites…" One shoulder lifted and dropped.

"Sorry to hear that." At the exit into the warehouse, Taylor led the way to the left. "The break room is here. It has the usual stuff, vending machines, water cooler, ice maker, microwaves, refrigerator. The bathrooms are around that corner. They're next to the housekeeping closet, if you need a broom or mop. Maintenance is on the other side of the loading dock, and IT sequesters themselves on the third floor. Whatever you do, don't go up there and knock on the door. They're easily startled. Submit a work order to your supervisor. We'll go over the fulfillment and shipping process when we get back to my desk. Any questions so far?"

"You have an interesting accent. Where you're from?"

Though he didn't like to talk about it with most people, Taylor felt at ease with Layia. Despite that, he gave her the official version. "I was adopted by a Canadian family living in Romania when I was six. We moved back to Vancouver just a few months ago."

"You don't sound Romanian, but then, what do _I_ know? I lived in _Jersey_ for eighteen months. The weather there is worse than here. And the people are rude."

"Never been to the US, and from what I've heard, I would not enjoy it." He led the way through the warehouse proper, pointing out the signs, his voice and their footsteps echoing. "Each section is clearly labeled, just in case you have to get it yourself. We use the robots for stocking and retrieving items from the higher shelves. Though I sometimes still use the ladder just to mix it up a little. There are also robots to the move the pallets of incoming stock, but I use the forklift or the bucket lift most of the time."

One end of Layia's hijab came loose, giving him a glimpse of dark hair that vanished when she casually tossed it over her shoulder, around the back, and tucked it in. "Why, when you can just push a few buttons, and have the work done for you?"

Walking at her side now, he gave her a sheepish side-eye. "I like driving the forklift and riding in the bucket lift."

Her laugh was spontaneous, and sweet. "Then teach me those first."

Bowing slightly, Taylor led her to the loading dock. "It would be my pleasure."

 **Wakanda**

"Nat?" Clint called out to his best friend, and she joined him while the others got changed for their ordeal. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "Have you told Barnes and Wanda that Pietro might be alive?"

"We're both still getting used to being parents, and Wanda's still dealing. It seemed too much to pile on them all at once. Plus, we're not even sure that this Taylor Clancy _is_ Pietro."

"Klein's program gave it an eighty-eight percent match."

Natasha shot him one of her milder glares. "That means there's a twelve percent chance it's _not_. Let's stop the coup, _then_ we'll talk. The four of us can go to Vancouver together to check it out."

Their conversation halted when the rest of the team came out of their rooms. Natasha went to change, and Clint ducked into his room just long enough to put on his new avenging apparel. Both were back within minutes. "You heard Cap. Let's get this show on the road."

At the back of the group, Clint watched Wanda whisper in Scott's ear. Whatever she said must've been embarrassing, because the former thief turned red, and blinked rapidly several times. She grinned as she walked his way. "Try to keep up, Hawkeye."

They split off when they reached the parking lot, Wanda staying with Clint as they jogged toward the first of the addresses they'd been given. "What did you say to Lang?"

"Nothing that concerns you." She looked around. "We need transportation."

Clint wasn't listening. The only weapons he had were his wit and fighting skills. What he needed was something that could take someone down from a distance, and he found it. He ran into a store, where thankfully the owner spoke English, and came out with a bow, and a quiver of arrows, and a long coil of rope over his shoulder. The bow wasn't as good as what he'd lost, but it would do. He passed the backpack to Wanda, and she put it on without question.

Up ahead, they saw a man standing next to a motorcycle he'd left running while he talked to the owner of the fruit stand. Clint jumped on, and Wanda got on behind him. To the owner, he said, "Sorry. Gotta borrow your ride!"

~~O~~

Scott and Sam crouched behind an enormous flowering bush, watching the house. The home belonged to another of T'Challa's cousins, his wife, and two teenage children.

Sam slapped Scott on the shoulder and pointed out the armed men hiding as they were, in the bushes. He tapped his headset. "Wilson to Barton. What's the word on the cousin?"

" _Bad Guy radio says his current location is unknown_."

"We got us some bogies lying in wait. Three that we can see. Probably more." Sam grinned at Scott, who faded back, and made his way around to the back of the home. "We're on it."

Sam signed off before Clint could respond, and shrugged out of his backpack, which contained several handguns, and one rifle that had to be assembled.

Crouched in the bushes, Sam mourned the loss of his wings, and drone. At least with Redwing, he'd have an aerial view, and could scan the interior.

In his headset, he heard Scott swearing, and the sound of fighting. Then grunting, the dual thud of bodies hitting the ground, and Scott's heavy breathing. " _Two down, Sam. Just gotta truss 'em up like Thanksgiving turkeys. There's one more on the north side, and he's mine._ "

On the way, Scott had fashioned them a couple of make-shift weapons that wouldn't make as much noise as the guns. Sam pulled his out as he backed up, and circled around behind the terrorists. "Radio silence starting now."

He shut off the headset so he wouldn't be distracted, and found another hiding place. How to separate the men so he could take them out with minimal fuss? Why not use an old trick?

Sam swept his hands over the ground at his feet, and located several fruit laying where they'd fallen from the tree. The skin was prickly, and the odor pungent, even when fresh. But these weren't anywhere near fresh, making them perfect for his purpose.

He chose one that was still mostly intact, tucked it into the ammunition holder of the slingshot, aimed, and let fly. It hit the nearest man between the shoulder blades. Swearing, the man ordered his companion to stay while he went after whomever had hit him.

Sam reloaded with another of the fruit that had already begun to rot, and waited until the man had passed his hiding place to stand. "Hey, pal! Eat _this_!"

He released the holder. The fruit flew through the air, hitting the man in the center of his forehead, knocking him off his feet. The slingshot hit the ground as Sam moved in to finish the guy off with a few well-placed punches. He pulled the man's belt loose, and used it to tie him to a tree. Pieces of the man's shirt was used to tie his wrists and ankles, and as a gag. He searched him for weapons, adding a couple of knives and another handgun to his arsenal. He retrieved the dropped semi-automatic assault rifle, checked the magazine, and shoved it home as he made his way to his next target.

Then, he went after the next one, and found him peering into the dense tropical growth where his pal had gone. Sam was nearly in striking range when the man turned and fired. He missed, and Sam charged him. The rifle came up, and the man swung the butt at Sam's head, grazing him on the right side.

This left his opponent's midsection vulnerable, and Sam took full advantage. Off to his right, he heard more fighting, assuming it was Scott taking on the last of the bad guys at this location.

Bent at the waist, the other man brought the rifle up and around, hitting Sam in the ribs, causing him to stumble, and go down on one knee. Breathing hard, Sam looked up at him. "Now you're just pissing me off."

Taking a page from his high school football coach, Sam rushed the guy, getting him in the stomach. The rifle flew from his hands as the two men fell to the ground, still fighting.

~~O~~

Scott was surprised he could concentrate after what Wanda said just before they'd gone their separate ways.

 _Would telling you_ _now_ _that I want us to have sex tonight be enough of a warning?_

He couldn't help but wonder if Clint heard, and what he might do to him should he agree. At the moment, a war was going on between his head and other parts of his body. Of course, concentrating on saving the lives of T'Challa's family helped prioritize his thoughts, pushing Wanda's statement farther down the list. He'd come back to it later, when he didn't have a coup to stop.

With his back against the wall, Scott eased up to the corner, and peeked around. The last guy was crouched in the bushes, talking to his boss, supposedly telling him that he couldn't reach his team on the radio. From the barely seen expression, his report was not well received.

The man, approximately the same height as himself, backed out of his hiding place, and made a crouching run in Scott's direction. He listened to boots crunching on the gravel, counting down. On zero, he spun out of his hiding place, dropped into a fighting stance, and clocked the guy with an uppercut that sent him stumbling back. The rifle fell to the ground, and his opponent brought out a formidable looking knife.

Discretion may be the better part of valor, but that wouldn't stop these men from killing off the royal bloodline. That wouldn't happen on _his_ watch.

Scott went on the defensive, driving the man toward the street where Sam was dealing with the others. Since they'd come to Wakanda, Scott had gotten a few fighting lessons from Natasha, a mix of several types of martial arts that included plain ole street fighting. As yet, he'd only tried the one move on Sam, and even then it hadn't gone well. Both men had ended up in the clinic with minor scrapes and contusions. He was determined to get it right this time.

He hit the man in the stomach with a roundhouse kick, knocking him onto his backside in the middle of the street. From the corner of his eye, Scott saw Sam dragging an unconscious man over to a tree where he proceeded to tie him up.

Scott backed up, making a come-at-me gesture. The man took the bait, sprinting down the street and growling deep in his throat as he balled up his fists. Scott ran toward him, jumped, and got the man's head between his knees. Leaning back, Scott used the momentum to send his opponent sailing through the air to crash into the side of a car that was parked at the corner. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

Sam came to stand with him, both breathing hard. He held out a fist, and Scott tapped it with his. He took a few deep breaths, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and grabbed the guy by the shoulders of his shirt and vest. Sam came to help, and together, they tied him up with the rest.

"Scott."

He looked up in time to catch one of the assault rifles, hanging it over his shoulder so he could catch the handgun tossed his way. "Time to search the house. The back door's open. You go that way, and I'll let myself in the front."

 **Stark Tower**

 **Manhattan**

The lift doors opened, and Tony walked out yawning and scratching his stomach. His clothes looked, and smelled like he hadn't showered in several days. He went to the refrigerator for orange juice, holding the glass against his forehead before drinking it. The juice went down easy, and the glass clinked on the counter. A basket of fruit called out to him. He grabbed an apple and took a huge bite to shut it up.

Tony kicked his shoes off, flopped down on the sofa, and sighed. "Friday."

" _Here, boss_."

Around the piece of apple, he asked, "How's our guest doing? Any complaints?"

" _Not a one. Hasn't said much except to ask where things are_."

"What kinds of things?"

A hologram of a redhead appeared in the air. Instead of her usual plain slacks, white blouse, and jacket, she wore dark blue skinny jeans, a form-fitting chocolate brown long-sleeved shirt, a white, brown and green scarf, and one of those long sweaters that reached her ankles. The dark green made her red hair sparkle. On her feet were brown suede knee-high low-heeled boots, and her hair had been gathered in a messy bun on the back of her head, leaving wisps framing her face.

" _Food, drinks, clothes, reading material. Does his own cooking, too. He'd like to speak to you, when it's convenient_."

She was also wearing a pair of big, round glasses with tortoiseshell frames that showed off her green eyes, long dark lashes, and the smattering of freckles on her cheeks. He sat up, giving her a leisurely once-over. "Did you get a make-over while I wasn't looking?"

Friday looked down at herself. " _Changing it up a bit, boss. A girl gets tired of wearing the same old, same old._ "

The sofa creaked as Tony got to his feet, and slowly ambled toward the penthouse he used to share with Pepper. "Set up the meet for later today. I'm down for a nap." He waved a hand over his head. "Anything his majesty wants, give it to him."

 **TBC**


	46. Plan A Never Works

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War._

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Just a little note to let everyone know that, due to a grievous error on my part, chapters "No Room to Rumba" through "I Dream of Friday" are being rewritten. Some changes are subtle, while others are major rewrites. It's also not necessary to comment on these rewritten chapters, unless you see something worth remarking about, or a major mistake.

The chapter title for this one had to be changed.

Stay tuned…

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Plan "A" Never Works**

 **Wakanda**

Over his shoulder, Clint asked Wanda, "How close do you have to be to influence someone?"

"Not close. However, the farther away, the more it sort of spreads out." She shifted slightly. "If the person is resistant, like yourself, I would need to be in closer proximity."

"Like on the barge?"

She reached around in front of him, and waggled her hand. "With the Avengers, it was meant to be personal. It had to be directed to each of you in a different way. For this, I could be several yards away, as long as I can see them. In Sokovia, I was only able to affect a large number because most of them were mentally susceptible."

He slowed down to take a corner, and sped up again. "Sorry about the Taser to the forehead, by the way."

"It was no more than I deserved. Than both of us deserved." Wanda's voice had a melancholy tone.

"Didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

His phone beeped, and she pulled it from his back pocket, shutting off the sound. "GPS says we're nearly there. We should walk the last few blocks so they don't hear us coming."

Before Wanda mentioned it, Clint was already slowing down, searching the area for a place to leave the bike. He stopped, and they both got off so he could push it into the bushes where he shut it down, and pocketed the key. "Remind me to fill the tank before returning it."

"Will do. I should go. My psionics will protect me from being shot."

"We go together, or I go in alone." Clint sensed she was gearing up for a lengthy argument they didn't have time for. He gripped the string of the bow across his chest with one hand, and motioned for her to follow with the other. They kept to the bushes, ducking behind cars, and trees when none were available, until they could see the house. "Okay. I have a plan."

Wanda nudged him. "Is it a good plan?"

One shoulder twitched. "It's a plan."

In his head, he sensed her smile. "Then together, we will make it good, _da_?"

" _Da_." He put a finger to his lips for quiet, using the same one to point out the bad guys coming down the street, not hiding that they were armed. The vehicle, an old jeep, stopped a block away, and parked on a side street. Those inside got out, and approached the home.

Clint unslung the bow, pulled out an arrow, nocked it, and aimed for the one who seemed to be in charge. Of the three, he was the only one wearing a headset. Taking aim, he let his mind go blank, and released the string.

The arrow neatly severed the wire that hung from his right ear. Unfortunately, the arrow nicked the man's neck, and he yelped in pain. He touched the area, his hand coming away with blood. This group was made of sterner stuff than your everyday citizen. Instead of scaring him, the blood made him angry. He shouted orders at his team, and the others split off, supposedly going in search of whoever dared injure him.

Through the headset in Clint's left ear, he heard weapons fire, and Cam's slightly panicked voice.

" _This is Klein. Anyone copy?_ " More gunfire and rasping breaths from the computer tech.

Clint knew that keeping his voice steady and calm, and the use of his first name would help dissipate some of the anxiety. " _Barton. SitRep, Cam_."

He heard Cameron eject a spent clip, and shove another home. " _Hill's down and we're boxed in. Really could use some help here_."

Wanda stood up, the red mist covering her palms as if summoned by her emotions. "I'll go. You got this."

Before he could object, the girl was gone. How the hell was he supposed to protect her, if she kept running off? In his mind, he heard her voice saying, _Not your job_ , _pápochka_. _I can take care of myself._

Footsteps in the underbrush took his attention. He unslung the bow and quiver, tucking them out of sight in the bushes. A K-bar appeared in the other hand. Being ambidextrous was a big plus in this job. While training new recruits, he worked with them to make certain they could perform the same functions with both hands because there was no guarantee that the enemy would take out their non-dominant hand.

Gripping the knife, Clint slunk through the undergrowth, stalking his first prey. The man stopped in front of him, scanning the surrounding area, and not being subtle about it. Without making a sound, Clint stood.

~~O~~

When Wanda judged that she was far enough away so that talking wouldn't give his location to the enemy, she tapped her headset. "Cam?"

" _Wanda?_ " He obviously thought his backup would be someone else.

"I will be there soon. Try to hold on _._ " Staccato gunfire sounded in her ear, farther away this time.

Cameron grunted, and in his mind, she could see he was attempting to move Hill while keeping watch. " _We're at…_ "

She touched the knife that Clint had given her, taking comfort from its weight at her waist. "Concentrate on protecting Maria, Cam. _I_ will find _you_."

All sound from Cameron's headset abruptly stopped. Wanda had to get there, and quickly. She'd only levitated a few times, and for short distances. Her speed wasn't that great either, but she had to try.

Focusing all her energy on defying gravity, Wanda formed a thick, red mist, and pushed her palms toward the ground, propelling herself into the air faster than she ever had before. Using her psionics, she honed in on the strong emotions Cameron was broadcasting, and soon came upon his hiding place.

He had his eyes closed, and his face slightly averted, expecting at any moment that his life, and Maria's, would end. She landed close by, raising her arms so that the mist moved toward the man now holding an automatic weapon at her friend's head.

Stepping into the open so he would see her and know that he'd been beaten by a woman half his size, Wanda waited for the right moment. When the muzzle of his weapon dipped down and to the side, she surrounded him with the red mist and sent him flying through the air to slam against a wall far enough away that he wouldn't be found by his accomplices.

Rushing to join Cameron, she found him crouched next to Hill, bandaging the wound in her side with his torn shirt. From the location, it had to be what Clint and Natasha called a through and through. She knelt next to them. "How is she?"

"The fact that the bullet's not still inside her makes me optimistic, or would, if it weren't for the head wound." He turned her head to show a lump smaller than a golf ball. "Hit it when she fell."

"I might be able to help." Closing her eyes, Wanda sent a thick tendril of red into the side wound, slowing the bleeding to a thin trickle. "It won't hold for long. Maria needs medical attention, and soon."

Unlike most homes, this one was removed from those around it, and was surrounded by a low stone wall. She sensed fear, and distress from the neighbors, most of which were hiding in closets, and under beds since the shooting began.

Once again, she sent a fine mist toward those that seemed less scared, and more angry at the disruption of their quiet life than the others. As they crept through their homes to peek out of windows, Wanda increased the urgency, while levitating Hill through the air, setting her gently in the front yard of a particular home. The adult male occupant peeked out a window, and when he saw her, the front door was flung open. He scooped her up, and carried her inside just as several others joined him. One of which had basic first aid training, and had brought supplies to assist. The door closed, and Wanda turned her attention elsewhere.

She crouched beside Cameron, sending him a quick ping that would shore up the wall of his fading courage. His heartbeat and respiration slowed down, and instead of cowering behind the wall, his back straightened. He picked up the dropped assault weapon, holding it with assurance. "What is the situation with the family?"

"Not sure. Bad guys beat us here. We were keeping them busy so they could sneak out the back, or were until Maria got hit."

"Were they able to get to safety?"

Wanda helped Cameron compartmentalize his worry for Hill, allowing him to focus on the task at hand. "If by safety you mean trapped inside the house, yes."

"So, no." An idea came to her. "I have a plan."

Cameron peeked over the wall, and ducked down again. "It's good plan, right?"

Grinning at the near word for word repeat of the conversation she had with Clint, Wanda remarked, "We will see. Let's call it plan B."

Her companion looked over his shoulder at her with a slight smile. "Because plan A never works?"

"Exactly. And this plan _will_ work." Wanda went over her thought processes one more time.

"Because it's plan B."

Closing her eyes, Wanda raised her hands, once more sending out the thin mist. This one would put the thought into the minds of the men still attempting to assassinate the family inside the home that the coup had been successful, and that they'd been called to the throne room where their leader would officially take control of Wakanda.

Without warning, bright lights slashed and burned their way through Wanda's brain popping like old fashioned flash bulbs. She grasped the sides of her head, and fell to her knees, the rocks cutting through the material of her pants, gouging small holes in her legs. For a brief moment, she felt herself falling, and landed in the grass with a thump.

The pain soared, overwhelming her senses to the point that her mind had to protect itself, and she passed out.

 **Stark Tower**

 **Manhattan**

" _Sarcasm, boss?_ "

"What do you take me for, Friday?"

A pen and pad appeared in her hands. She stuck the end of the pen in her mouth, looking thoughtful. " _Hmm… Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist?_ " A hand waved in the air. " _Except for the playboy part_."

Shaking his head, Tony continued on toward the penthouse. "Then you should know better than to ask that question."

He glanced over his shoulder at her snort, the grin turning to a wide-eyed innocent stare that was belied by the twinkle of humor in her green eyes. " _Heard back from the director of the Charles Spencer Foundation. It's all set up. She'll be doing a quiet campaign through Mr. Spencer's alma mater, recruiting kids who want to, as you said, put a few miles on their soul before settling down as an office drone. And because we hired from outside the company, no one will ever know the identity of the anonymous benefactor. Even the director doesn't know she works for SI._ "

"Whose idea was _that_?"

Now the hologram looked smug. " _Mine._ _I_ _hired her, but I'm just a voice on the phone, and a face on Skype_."

Tony continued walking, waving a hand over his head without turning around. "You're a genius, Red. I'm off to bed."

" _Wait, boss._ "

Annoyed, he turned around, giving her a deadpan stare. "What now?"

The hologram blurred, and when it cleared again, Friday was wearing a sleeveless midnight blue dress with black panels down both sides, and two-inch heels. Her hair was now in a conservative twist at the back of her head. Subtle diamond and gold earrings, necklace, and bracelet finished off the look. " _Our guest is requesting an audience with your exaltedness_." The lifts rang, and a man stepped out. " _I took the liberty of RSVPing on your behalf_."

Even in workout shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers the man gave off an aura of quiet dignity and grace. Tony, on the other hand, gave off an odor that said he hadn't showered in a couple of days.

"Thank you for seeing me, Tony."

Tony wandered in the direction of the bar, and his guest followed. "What kind of a host would I be if I never had a conversation with a man the world thinks is dead, your highness?"

T'Challa accepted a tall glass of iced tea, and perched himself on one of the barstools. "The same man you present to the world. I admire that you're not one to make pretenses. What you are in public is what you are at home, and with friends." He rubbed a thumb through the condensation on the glass. "I must return to Wakanda, to assist with repelling the Fifth Column."

Tony's glass hit the counter with more force than he intended. "What happened to your personal conveyance?"

"As the world believes that I am dead, it would look suspicious if my plane were to disappear from the airfield."

"It'll be guarded too." Tony rattled the ice in his glass. "It just so happens, I can get my hands on an aircraft that has stealth tech as standard equipment."

Turning to face the room, T'Challa gestured with the glass. "Ah, one of the infamous quinjets. I have wanted to pilot one for some time. Could it be ready within the hour?"

Smiling smugly, Tony nonchalantly hitched a hip onto one of the bar stools. "Friday's on it. You can leave anytime you're ready." Turning to the side, he set his glass on the bar. "Need back-up on this mission? I know a certain billionaire who wouldn't mind helping out."

"That is a generous offer, Tony. However, the Dora Milaje and a team of secret warriors are more than capable of assisting."

Tony spread his hands to the side. "Understood. If you change your mind…" one hand went into his pocket, coming out with what looked like a remote no bigger than his thumb, "…this will send an SOS. I can be on-scene within a few minutes."

Accepting the device, T'Challa tucked it into a discrete pocket. "I will keep that in mind." He extended his hand. "Your assistance with creating the illusion that I am dead has been invaluable. When the situation at home is resolved, would you mind if I returned?"

"Not at all, your highness. _Mi casa es su casa_."

~~O~~

The limo pulled up to the back entrance to Stark Towers. T'Challa let himself into the back seat, along with his duffle bags, and buckled his seat belt for the journey to the airstrip.

The ride was uneventful, the traffic being lighter than he'd come to expect for a city the size of New York.

The driver came to a smooth stop next to a non-descript hangar that boasted two heavily armed guards. The monarch exited the limo without waiting for the driver, anxious to be on his way. He approached the guard posted at the entrance. The man nodded a greeting, entered a code into the keypad to the left of the door, and pushed it open. T'Challa stepped inside, and the door was closed again.

Before him sat a majestic craft with a matte silver finish, and smooth lines that made it aerodynamic even in the harshest weather.

Without asking for it to be done, the door of the hangar rolled up out of the way while T'Challa powered up and strapped into the pilot's seat. The controls were similar enough to his personal aircraft that there would not be a problem. If he had questions or concerns, the on-board AI would assist.

He pulled out of the hangar, and made his way to the runway as directed by the air traffic controller, and was soon in the air, on course for Wakanda.

 **Virtuosity Warehouse**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

Before training Layia on the forklift and cherry picker, as Mike called it, Taylor helped set up her access for shipping, inventory, and programming the robotics. Technically, her position in the call center wouldn't require knowledge of how to work the equipment, so he saved that for when everyone else on the floor had gone home for the night.

With Layia here every day for the next week, he'd have to be careful not to be seen when working off the excess energy produced by his superfast speed.

Fortunately, that wasn't a problem for the first few hours as they were busier than usual. Layia was a quick study, and the rush went smoothly. Afterwards, he sent her on a break so she could pray, visit the ladies room, and get a snack, if she wished.

Taylor kicked back with his feet on the corner of his desk, thinking about the day he told Adam and Julia about his abilities. They decided together that the kids wouldn't be told, but now, Taylor was rethinking that strategy. Ryan and Quinn were part of the family. They deserved to know what was going on. However, if they were cautioned not to tell anyone about it, would they be able to keep the secret? There can be power in knowing something that no one else knows, and perhaps that was the way to present it to the kids.

As often happened when he tried to relax, his mind kept whirling. Breathing deeply only did so much, and soon, his thoughts had slowed down, stopping in a place he didn't particularly want to be considering his abortive attempt at dating. He should've know that getting involved with someone who thought you were someone you weren't would not work out. At least he hadn't gotten in over his head, or being left at the coffee shop would've hurt.

Hearing Layia's footsteps echoing in the vast warehouse let him know she was on her way back. Because he was in charge at night, he had some leeway as to how many and how long the breaks were for his "subordinate". Taylor himself wasn't spiritual. He prayed with the family because it was their preference. For himself, he hadn't put much thought into his religious beliefs.

"Back so soon?" His feet hit the floor.

Layia rolled a chair up next to him, and sat down. "We pray five times a day. Doesn't take long." She held out a bottle. "Brought you some water."

"Thanks." He twisted the top off and took a drink.

"So, what's next?"

Taylor brought the computer out of power saver mode, showing a long list of orders that had just come in. He refreshed the screen, and the list got even longer. "We fulfill these items. The rest are sent from other warehouses. The computer keeps a record of what we have on hand, and automatically orders more."

"And Marketing tracks trends, and such, to make projections about what will be the next big thing that everyone wants, and just has to have the next day."

He quickly scrolled through the items they would have to prepare for shipping. "Just basic stuff tonight. When it's clothes, I don't have the robots get them because they often make mistakes."

She chuckled. "That explains why, when I ordered a blue satin blouse, I received a blue t-shirt with the word 'Satan' on the front. My father was _furious_. Thought it was a twisted joke. That someone was making fun of our religion."

Taylor didn't think it was funny at all. "I would never make fun of something so important. That is why I do some of the work myself instead of relying on the machines." He went over the list. "Ah. We now have a good reason to use the cherry picker."

The forklift and cherry picker were kept in the farthest corner from the computer area, near the loading docks. One side of Layia's hijab came loose, and she tossed it over her shoulder without thinking, also pushing the sleeves of her sweatshirt up to her forearms.

"Before we go up, you need to tuck in the ends of your hijab so it does not come loose."

Apparently, she was so used to it happening, she hadn't even thought about it. "Oh, sorry. You know, now that I see what you do, Taylor, I'd rather be here than in that dusty call center."

"I too would take a dusty warehouse over a dusty office." Grinning, he opened the security gate, ushered her onto the platform, and joined her. "They call this a cherry picker, or a boom lift." He secured the gate, went to the controls, inserted the key, and turned it on. "It doesn't take long to learn how to use it, but you must be certified. So, until then, only I will be able to use it."

"Too bad. Was hoping I could add 'operating a cherry picker' to the list of skills on my résumé."

"You will. Just not today." Taylor's elbow bumped Layia's stomach, and he immediately stopped the machine. "Please, do not stand so close."

Looking contrite, Layia moved out of the way, leaning her arms on the sides of the platform. "Sorry. You're so tall, I can't see what you're doing."

Taylor moved to the side while maneuvering the cherry picker around a corner. He came to a stop, and looked up. "Want to try?"

"Sure." She took the half step to his side. Her sleeve caught on something, and she pulled it free. "What do I do?"

"Very slowly, move this joystick forward to take us up. I will tell you when to stop." She wrapped her small hand around the joystick, and eased it forward. Haltingly, the platform rose into the air. When they were even with the third shelf from the top, Taylor said, "Stop."

She let go so fast, the platform shook for a few seconds. "Seems easy."

He gave her an amused side-eye. "We haven't gotten to the hard part yet."

"Oh." Layia backed into the corner as Taylor turned the platform to within reaching distance of the shelf. The gate, knocked loose when her sleeve got caught, gave way, and Taylor looked on in horror as Layia fell off the platform toward the concrete floor thirty feet below.

 **TBC**


	47. Fulfilling a Destiny

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War._

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Just a little note to let everyone know that, due to a grievous error on my part, chapters "No Room to Rumba" through "I Dream of Friday" are being rewritten. Some changes are subtle, while others are major rewrites. It's also not necessary to comment on these rewritten chapters, unless you see something worth remarking about, or a major mistake.

The chapter title for this one had to be changed.

Stay tuned…

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Fulfilling a Destiny**

As she felt herself falling, Layia turned, flicked the fingers of her right hand to open a portal below. Through it, she could see a huge pile of sand at the construction site next door. It was the best place to go as it had no security cameras, and would provide a soft landing. The site did, however, have guards with dogs. They would not be a problem.

Immediately before she went into the portal, Layia was caught in midair, wrapped in an embrace, and held tight against a firm chest. Together, they fell into the portal, landing in the sand with a thud.

On the ground with a heavy body pressing her into the sand, Layia was stunned and puzzled to find that Taylor was now lying on top of her. He pushed to his hands and knees, concern in his blue eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. You?"

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his entire body began to shake. He fell on top of her again, his weight making it difficult for her to breathe. Getting her hands under his shoulders, Layia pushed and grunted, eventually turning Taylor onto his back where he continued to shake. She knew he was having a seizure, but had no idea how to help him.

Eventually, the shaking stopped, and Layia rolled to her knees beside him, first checking that he was still breathing. Relieved, she lightly slapped his cheek. "Taylor? Wake up! Wake up!"

He blinked, disoriented. His chest expanded as he breathed deeply a few times, and rose up on his elbows, barely able to focus. "What-what happened? Where are we?"

Chances were, if Layia got them back to the warehouse in the next few seconds, he'd think the trip through the portal was a hallucination brought on by the seizure. She created another one in the ground next them, grabbed Taylor by the shoulders of his shirt, and rolled them into it, appearing on the warehouse floor next to the cherry picker. This time, she was on top, just like she planned. She closed the portal, and climbed off to kneel next to Taylor again, giving him a shake. "Taylor?"

~~O~~

Looking around the warehouse with a frown, Taylor tried to make sense of the last few minutes. He remembered taking Layia up in the cherry picker, and that was it until he saw her face hovering over him, looking as if she thought he were dying. One moment, the ceiling looked like the sky. The next, the sky was gone, and the ceiling was back. She helped him sit up. "What happened?"

Layia looked up at the platform. "The gate came unlatched, and I fell. I don't know how you did it, but you saved my life." She scooted closer, running her hands through his hair, looking for bumps, her chest only inches from his face.

He felt uncomfortable with her touching him in an almost intimate manner that he gently pushed her hands away. "I'm fine." The look in her brown eyes was skeptical. "I had a seizure."

"You did. Have you taken your epilepsy meds today?"

Taylor got to his feet, Layia coming up with him, gripping his arm. "I don't have epilepsy. The doctors aren't sure why I'm getting them." He let her lead him over to a chair. "Good thing the camera can't see that area. I don't want Mike or the manager to know."

"Won't tell a soul."

With a sigh on his behalf, she left him to go to the break room. Taylor leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, and head in his hands, massaging his temples. Layia came back a few minutes later with a cup of tea, a bowl, and two lunch bags. She set it all on the desk away from the computer. "You should probably eat something."

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes again when it made him dizzy. "The seizures make me nauseous."

The bowl slowly scooted across the desk until he could smell only that. "It's tomato soup. A traditional dish eaten at _iftar_. Um, the meal eaten after sunset during Ramadan. Muslims break their fast at the time of the call to prayer for the evening prayer. My family prefers it without the banana peppers, and the mint will help settle your stomach. Made it myself."

His stomach grumbled as if in response to the description, and Layia snickered. Taylor had to admit it smelled good. He picked up the spoon, and stirred the soup, letting the steam warm his face. Strangely, it helped clear away some of the cobwebs in his brain. "What will _you_ eat?"

One side of her mouth turned up in a smile. "Depends." She held up both bags. "Which one's yours?"

"Both. I have a fast metabolism." He scooped up a spoonful of the soup, and swallowed it. "It's good."

"Thanks. We eat it year-round, especially when the weather gets chilly."

Taylor took one of the bags and opened it. "In this one, I have dessert." He set an apple, a banana, a kiwi, an orange, and a covered plastic bowl on the desk. "In the other one," he peered into the bag, taking items out one at a time, beginning with a covered plate. "Meatloaf, and macaroni and cheese, a falafel, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." He lined the food up on the desk. "Help yourself."

His companion picked up the plastic zipper bag with the sandwich. "Seriously? PB&J?"

He ate more of the soup, shrugging as he swallowed, and wiped his mouth before speaking. "I like peanut butter." She opened the zipper, pulled the sides down, and bit into the sandwich, chewing while watching him. She did it without blinking, and it made him nervous. "Something wrong?"

"No. It's just that I found out more about you in the last four hours than I did about my ex-boyfriend the entire two months we dated."

"Ex?" Taylor picked up the tea and took a sip.

She chewed and swallowed. "Yeah, and not because I wasn't ready to be intimate or that I came back to Vancouver. Those Jersey boys aren't very forthcoming with personal information. You'd think they all worked for the mafia or something. After two months, I didn't even know if he had siblings, or if his parents were still around, and he wouldn't say."

The tone of her voice soothed Taylor, and he found himself wanting her to be a friend. "One of the things I miss most about moving back to Canada is how hard it is to find a decent hasenpfeffer."

Around a mouthful of sandwich, Layia asked, "What's Hasenpfeffer?"

"It is a stew made of rabbit or hare, onions, and a marinade. It is sometimes made with eggs. My mother used to make it." His brain tossed up the memory like a kid bouncing a ball on the sidewalk. Picking up the bowl, he finished off the soup by drinking it. He wiped his mouth, and tossed the napkin in the trash. "I have not had it in a long time."

"Why not? Sounds good."

"My parents died when we were ten." Right now, all Taylor wanted to do was take a nap. The seizures always sapped his energy. He slumped in his chair, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes.

Puzzled, Layia tapped him on the leg to get his attention. "I thought you lived with your family."

"I do." Not knowing why he said the things he did, Taylor explained, "They're my adoptive family. Mother and Father have tried to make it, but it is not the same."

Nodding, Layia reached for the banana. "I'm glad someone took you in after your parents died. Wait, you said we. Who's we?"

Her voice faded out as he dozed off. The dream started almost immediately. He jerked awake, when Layia touched his shoulder. "Taylor? Wake up. We have orders to get out."

"Of course." He looked around, rubbing his eyes, and yawning, unsure if the dream was a memory, or something his imagination had created. "Under the circumstances, we will leave the items on the top shelves for the morning shift to take care of."

Layia scooted up next to him, their shoulders touching as he accessed the shipping software, and got to work. Behind them, they heard the robots moving around. After a while, she nudged him. "Let me do it for a while. You watch though, so I don't do anything wrong."

Taylor leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest, and made a mental note to speak to his doctor again. The tests he declined might be a good idea after all. He would talk to Julia and Adam when he got home.

 **Wakanda**

Bucky came around the corner just in time to see his woman take down the last in a group of five men, her newly blond hair flying. Together, they tied them up, gave weapons to a couple of the neighbors, and posted them as guards on the streets near the home.

As they returned to the residence, Natasha turned her left hand over to look at the leather. " _Chyort voz'mi!_ Got blood on them again." She pulled it off, only to find that the blood had soaked through. With a sigh, she pulled them both off and shoved them in Bucky's pants pocket. The suit he'd been given by Steve superficially resembled his Winter Soldier clothing. She idly traced the red star on his left bicep. He silently thanked their benefactor for including it. "How's the family?"

"Scared more than anything. We need a place to hide them until this is all over."

"Where do they stand in the royal ascension?"

Bucky knocked on the front door in a specific cadence. "Not quite sure. From what I can tell from the photos on the walls, they're below Kaya, but above Akwete and Doto. I _think_. Don't speak Wakandan, and their English is not quite as bad as Steve's Russian."

The front door opened a crack, one brown eye peeking out. Relieved, the woman stepped back to let them in, nodding and smiling. She chattered on and on, and when she ran out of words, she hugged them both. Taking their hands, she led them into a bedroom, speaking to the people huddled on the floor out of sight of the windows.

One was a young woman in her twenties holding tight to a blanket-wrapped bundle that cooed. She tried to stand, and couldn't with the baby in her arms, so Bucky went to help her. He held out his arms as if to lift her by grasping under her shoulders. But the woman misunderstood, and passed him the baby with a smile.

For a moment, he panicked, not sure what to do. He'd never held a baby before. The older woman, probably the grandmother, smiled indulgently, moving his hands and arms so he was holding the child comfortably, and safely.

Natasha came around so she could see the baby's face. "Not more than a day or two old, I'd say." She looked up at him with an affectionate smile. "You look very natural."

"I wish I could've seen you pregnant with our children." He knew the remark was startling by the look in her eyes. If she'd been any other woman, she might've cried, and she probably will, later, when they stopped the coup, and returned to the clinic.

Looking down at the sweet face, Bucky whispered, "You know, I could get used to this." His smile faded, as did Natasha's. "Too bad we can't have another." The young mother touched Bucky on the arm, and smiled, pointing at the baby then at Natasha. "I think she's telling us the baby is a girl."

Returning the smile, Natasha pointed to herself, "Natasha", then at the baby with a question in her eyes. "What's the baby's name?"

The mother reclaimed her child, cuddling her close when she fussed, swaying and lightly bouncing the small bundle in demonstration then handed her to Natasha, who did her best to imitate the mother.

"Nah-tah-shah."

Natasha looked from Bucky to the baby, and back to the mother. "You're naming her after _me_?"

Again, the mother nodded, touching the smooth skin of the baby's cheek. "Natasha. Pret-ty name for pret-ty girl."

There was a commotion out in the street, and gunfire. Bucky took off. Natasha handed the baby back to her mother, and followed him to the front of the house.

Bucky stood with his back to the wall between the front door and the window. Using one finger, he pulled the edge of the curtain back so he could look out.

"What do you see?"

"Nothing, and that always means something."

In spite of the blood, she took back her gloves, pulled them on, and activated the Widow's Bites. "No one's getting anywhere near my namesake and her family. Let's do this."

He eased the front door open so he could see the other end of the street. "If we were married, we could be husband and wife assassins." When there was no answer, Bucky realized that what he said might sound like a marriage proposal. "What I mean is…"

To his surprise, Natasha was gone. Relieved that she hadn't taken his wisecrack to heart, he gave her time to get out the back door, and into position. Crouching, he eased the door open enough to slip out, hunkering down behind a row of bushes in the garden from which he could see both ends of the street.

His sharp vision caught movement down the block, a familiar slender silhouette flitting from shadow to shadow. He tapped the headset twice to let Natasha know he was ready, and together they exploded into the open, once again taking out the bad guys who'd somehow gotten loose.

After their first encounter, the men no longer treated Natasha as the weaker sex. They came at her, and him, like battering rams. Bucky carried a weapon, but he wanted to make this personal. He hung the rifle crossways, over his back, reached back for a knife, and took on three of the five hand-to-hand. They too had knives, but he had superior strength, agility, and skill on his side. The way the men moved, they hadn't expected this level of resistance.

It wasn't long before the last of the men went down following a hit to the back of the head with the knife hilt, and an upper cut from Bucky's new and improved metal arm.

He heard gagging, and turned to see that one of the men had Natasha on the ground in a choke hold. Both of his legs had trapped hers between them. He was killing her, and enjoying it. But not for long.

Bucky went for an old trick. He picked up a rock, and threw it as hard as he could. It smacked the man on the side of his head, knocking him out. His hands released her, and Natasha sucked in air, one hand to her throat as he ran to help her.

He untangled her from the unconscious bad guy, and hugged her to his chest. She gripped the front of his vest while sucking in great gulps of air that turned into a coughing fit. He lifted her in his arms, and carried her to the low wall surrounding a home three down from that of T'Challa's family, holding her on his lap. "Got the drop on you, didn't he?"

"It's a one-off. Never happen again." Natasha leaned back to look at his face, and smiled. "And yes."

Confused, Bucky shook his head. "Pardon?"

"Yes, we should get married."

Speechless for a few moments, Bucky stared at her with his mouth open, his thoughts whirling. Eventually, they stopped, and he finally remembered that he'd wanted to be her husband since their first time together on the roof of the 2R facility. He pulled her close, and kissed her, only coming up for air when he heard tentative footsteps approaching.

Escorted by the guards, the family they'd been sent to protect stopped a few feet away, asking a question with their eyes. Bucky put Natasha on her feet, and they stood. "You're safe."

Natasha took out her phone, and showed the grandmother the address of the clinic, trying to make her understand that they needed to go there until they coup had been stopped. The woman holding the baby they'd named Natasha nodded understanding, and touched them each on the hand, smiling her thanks. As she walked away, the mother looked over her shoulder one last time.

Together, they watched them get into a car and drive away. Bucky pulled Natasha against his chest, hugging her from behind. One gloved hand rubbed over his wrist and back to the fingers. "I have an idea."

He bent down to kiss her neck. "Mmm. Me too."

"Actually, two ideas." Natasha turned within the circle of his arms. "The leader of the Fifth Column."

"What about him?" She backed up, crossed her arms, and oh, so slowly, an evil grin spread over her feature. He'd only seen that grin on a few occasions. What was coming would be epic, as Clint would say.

Dropping her arms to her sides, Natasha turned, and headed down the street toward the vehicle they'd appropriated to get here quickly. "We should let him win, or let him think he's won."

"And the second?"

Her mouth turned up in a smirk. "That's for show, rather than tell."

He came up beside her, reaching out to lift a few strands of hair. "Nice. You look hot as a blond, Tasha."

"And I'm rather fond of that full beard you've got going on. Didn't know your hair would grow that much while in cryo."

Bucky pushed the hair out of his face. "How do you think it got to be this long? At the beginning, I was in and out it seemed like every week or so."

"There's no record of assassinations attributed to the Winter Soldier until the second half of the sixties."

Though he didn't want to talk about it, she was his Natalia. His one and only. She deserved to know the truth, or at least part of it. The details would come later. "It took them nearly twenty years to condition me to respond to the code words." They got into the front seat of the car they'd borrowed, Natasha behind the wheel. "The only thing that kept me sane was imagining a life where Steve saved me from falling."

Once the car was started, Natasha reached over to touch his cheek. "Tell me all about it after we stop the coup."

~~O~~

Kaya had never been one to stay on the sidelines while others did all the work. Many royal families around the world did exactly that, but not in Wakanda. Here, the monarchy refused to ask the people to do what they won't do themselves. That's why T'Challa had worked in the mines as a young man, prior to going to university, and she had taken on a variety of what some might call menial jobs. T'Chakka said that their great ancestors wanted those who ruled to stay humble, to keep in touch with the needs of the people. If you worked alongside those over whom you reigned, you would eventually hear of their concerns and complaints, and could then take steps to correct them.

It was also why she'd become a student of the martial arts with T'Challa, training in a mix of taekwondo, capoeira, wushu, and extreme martial arts. The fact that Steve had no knowledge of her abilities did not negate their existence. She knew that he was more than capable of defending her parents, elderly aunts and uncles, and the staff all on his own. But again, she couldn't stand by and let him do a job that belonged to the reigning monarch.

With T'Challa dead, and her father and uncle, second and third in line for the throne, in hiding, she thought it best to let the usurper believe that his associates had succeeded in their assassination attempt. That would leave _her_ as the Queen of Wakanda. She stood up straight, shoulders back, and head proudly erect. It was time to earn that title.

Kaya opened the door just enough so that she could see the entry hall. No one was about, so she slipped out, and made her way to the stairs. From here, she could hear Steve fighting with a group of men. If she had to guess, there were maybe ten or so. And because this was the home of the second in line to the throne when they weren't pursuing diplomatic relations with the other members of the United Nations, the usurper would send a large contingent, maybe even come himself. The coward that he was, his strategy likely entailed keeping his distance until all resistance was quelled.

She thought briefly of taking the fight to the usurper, a man going by the name of Edwin Hrolf. What she read about him gave his country of origin as Uganda. Very little was known about his mother aside from the false story she fed him every day of his life, that he was the rightful ruler of Wakanda, a child conceived out of wedlock during a purported affair with a member of the royal family.

The problem with the story was that the timeframe was off. There were no male family members with whom the woman could've had an affair. They were either too old, too young, or out of the country at the time, and _not_ in Uganda. Of the possibilities, one was T'Chakka, who had been at university in the UK the years surrounding Hrolf's birth. He had been completely devoted to his new wife, and had been still, long after her death from cancer. That was why he never remarried. Now he was gone as well, and Kaya hoped that her love for Steve would always be as strong.

Kaya's senses went on alert at the soft scuff of a shoes on tile, coming from the direction of the kitchen. She faded into the shadows that always lurked in the deep corners of the ancient castle. When they passed her hiding place, and split up, she quietly took out the last one with a well-placed roundhouse kick, followed by a backfist, and a knee to the stomach, dropping him like a stone.

Grasping the back of his vest, she dragged him to the closet where Steve had put the first one, stuffed him inside, and shut the door. She did the same with the other two, shoving them into a closet in the entry hall. To keep them confined, a straight-backed chair was pushed up under the doorknob. It wouldn't hold for long, but it would slow them down.

Multiple footsteps came down the stairs. Steve and her parents, on their way to the panic room, no doubt. Not wanting to be seen, Kaya hid in the shadows until they'd gone.

~~O~~

While Steve was escorting Kaya's family to safety, and she was pumping herself up to deal with the coming threat, deep in the bowels of the castle, a figure crept to the far corner of what had once been the dungeon. Now, it was used for less sinister purposes than the incarceration and torture of political prisoners.

Relics of the past gathered dust on all sides. If you listened closely, late at night when the moon was full, you could hear them whispering of past deeds, good and bad. Some even believed that ghosts wandered the halls, here and above.

The one now standing in front of a specific wall thought it nonsense. Stories created by overactive imaginations with nothing better to do. The figure, lean, and strong, touched the wall in a specific sequence, and a door opened. Housed within this secret panel stood a symbol of courage, justice and protection. Not only for Wakanda, but the world.

It was black, infused with vibranium-the strongest metal on earth, and fit the wearer as if it were a second skin. The material breathed, keeping the wearer cool in the heat, and warm in the cold, and was flexible enough to allow freedom of movement. The headpiece and mask vaguely resembled a panther. The gloves were fitted with vibranium claws that could rip through just about anything.

The figure slipped into the suit, and sealed the front, speaking the mantra that all monarchs as children. "The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle passed from warrior to warrior." The mask was pulled down to cover the face. "Tonight, I shall fulfill that destiny."

 **TBC**

 _Iftar_ \- The meal eaten by Muslims after sunset during Ramadan.

Hasenpfeffer is a traditional German stew made from marinated rabbit or hare, cut into stewing-meat sized pieces and braised with onions and a marinade made from wine and vinegar.

According to James Young, fight coordinator for _Captain America: Civil War_ , they used a mix of taekwondo, capoeira, wushu and extreme martial arts for T'Challa's fighting style.

Taekwondo is a Korean martial art, characterized by its emphasis on head-height kicks, jumping and spinning kicks, and fast kicking techniques.

Capoeira is a Brazilian martial art that combines elements of dance, acrobatics, and music. It was developed in Brazil mainly by Angolans, at the beginning of the 16th century. It is known for its quick and complex maneuvers, predominantly using power, speed, and leverage across a wide variety of kicks, spins and techniques.

Wushu - Chinese martial arts, often named under the umbrella terms _kung fu_ , and _wushu_ , are the several hundred fighting styles that have developed over the centuries in China. These fighting styles are often classified according to common traits, identified as "families", "sects" or "schools" of martial arts.

Extreme Martial Arts (XMA) - extreme martial arts. Category martial arts combined with beautiful variations and acrobatics. It is a combination of all types in one. The entire element is in acrobatics which also refer to kicks, spins, and dodges. Examples XMA are also used in films where actors can substitute for people who practice this sport.


	48. That Which is Hidden

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War._

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Just a little note to let everyone know that, due to a grievous error on my part, chapters "No Room to Rumba" through "I Dream of Friday" are being rewritten. Some changes are subtle, while others are major rewrites. It's also not necessary to comment on these rewritten chapters, unless you see something worth remarking about, or a major mistake.

Stay tuned…

Namaste,

Sunny

"Sometimes, to uncover that which is hidden, we much first be made to look."

 _The Outer Limits_ , "A Special Edition", Season 3, Episode 18, July 25, 1997

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **That Which is Hidden**

Inside the home, Scott held his weapon in both hand as he slowly searched the kitchen, laundry room, and dining room, meeting up with Sam in the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Scott felt naked without his Ant-Man suit, and Sam probably felt the same about his wingpack. The fact that they, like Steve and Bucky, had let their hair and beards grow, helped somewhat. So did the suits Steve had given them. Sam's had dark red insets shaped like wings. The suit Scott wore had grey, red and silver designs on the chest and shoulders.

Sam used hand signals, instructing him to watch their six. At the first bedroom, Scott kept watch while Sam searched, finding no one. At the next door, they switched. Again no one. As they moved onto the room at the end of the hall, they heard a noise that didn't belong, coming from the bathroom.

Together, the men took a stance on either side, and Sam slowly pushed the door open. Again, they heard the sound. Sam aimed at the cabinet under the sink, and on three, Scott opened it, stepped back, and aimed all in one smooth motion.

They lowered their weapons when they saw that it was a young girl, no more than ten years old. Scott put the safety on his weapon, and shoved it into the back waistband of his pants, pulling his shirt down to cover it.

Slowly, he crouched, and held onto the open cabinet door. "Hello, sweetheart. Come on out. We're not going to hurt you." The girl shook her head, and pulled her knees tighter to her chest. Her eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip quivered. Assuming a relaxed position, Scott smiled. "My name is Scott, and this is Sam. What's your name?"

When she didn't speak, Scott whispered over his shoulder, "Put the gun away, Sam. You're scaring her." Sam did as he said, and crouched to make himself less imposing. "We just want to keep you safe. There are some bad men out there who want to hurt you and your family. We're here to stop them."

Sam tapped him on the knee. "Maybe she doesn't speak English."

For the first time, the girl spoke up. "I speak English. My name is Danifa." Her voice was so low that they could barely hear it. "It is too late to save us."

Going down on one knee, Scott inched a little closer. "What do you mean, honey?"

The girl's dark eyes flicked back and forth between the two men. The moment she chose to trust them shone in her eyes. She put her feet out, and the men each took a hand to help her stand, and that's when they saw the blood. Over her head, they shared a look. That much blood was _never_ a good thing, though she didn't seem to be injured.

Danifa went down the hallway and that's when they saw blood seeping from under the closed door. Before they could stop her, she pushed it open and stood with her back to it, pointing.

Dreading what they might see, Scott peered around the jamb, and Sam looked over his shoulder, both muttering a word that shouldn't be repeated in public, or in front of a child.

The boy was obviously dead. He lay on his back, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, arms and legs splayed. He'd been savagely beaten and stabbed, the knife still sticking out of his stomach.

The woman was on her side, knees bent, one arm across her stomach. A sense of urgency swept through them when the woman moved, a moan coming from her throat as he chest moved ever so slightly.

Scott crouched next to the woman. She was covered in so much blood he didn't know how she could still be alive. Not knowing what to do to make her comfortable, he concentrated on a way to staunch the blood still seeping from the wound in her upper abdomen.

Sam used his phone to dial the Wakandan version of emergency services. When it was answered, he rattled off the address. "…female, approximately late thirties. Multiple stab wounds to the abdomen."

Thankfully, the operator spoke English. " _Paramedics are on their way. Is anyone else hurt?_ "

"A boy about fifteen. I think he's dead."

The click of keys in the background indicated that the woman took their report seriously, and not as a prank. " _Someone will be there soon._ "

Sam turned the phone off, and shoved it in his back pocket. "We need to put pressure on those wounds before she bleeds out."

Way ahead of him, Scott had taken a sheet from the bed and folded it into a makeshift pressure bandage. He waved Sam over, and he came to help while Scott used his knife to cut two long, wide strips of cloth. The woman cried out in pain as they tied the strips around her hips and just above her waist. "Sorry, but we have to do it. The paramedics will be here soon."

Though they were careful, afterward, she lay on the floor whimpering, and the sound tore at Scott. Sam too, to go by his unreadable expression. The girl knelt next to her mother, carefully slipping a small pillow under her head, tears flowing from her dark brown eyes. Scott brushed a hand over her head, and suddenly, Danifa threw herself at him, her arms holding tight around his waist. He stood, and carried her out to the living room to wait for the paramedics and the morgue to arrive.

He sat down on the sofa next to the girl. "Can you tell me what happened, Danifa?"

"Moeder tried to stop Pa from leaving. He had guns, and was angry, shouting things I didn't understand. He's been angry a lot lately. Then, he hit her with his fist. She fell, and he just kept hitting her. Osei tried to stop him. They fought for the gun, and it flew away. I-I was scared that Pa would hurt me too, so I hid." Scott found a box of tissues, and gave them to her. "If I had stayed…"

"You might've been hurt too. Danifa, honey, your mother is still alive." In the distance and coming closer, Scott heard sirens shattering the formerly serene stillness of the neighborhood. "I'm sure the paramedics will let you ride with her to the hospital."

The sirens stopped outside the home. Scott went to let them in, pointing in case they didn't speak English. "In the bedroom. The boy's there too."

The paramedics were followed by several of the tall, slender women he'd been told were called the Dora Milaje, a team of women who served as Special Forces for the people of Wakanda, specifically the king or queen. They wore uniforms that resembled that of ancient Rome. Metal gauntlets protected their wrists and forearms. Their shoulders were likewise protected. Each wore what looked like a multi-layered necklace the covered their necks and the upper edge of their chests between the collar bones. The colors were a orangish-red and dark grey, highlighted with gold. The only weapons he could see were the katanas, though he was certain they had several hidden on their bodies.

The leader, wearing dark blue, grey and gold, looked him up and down with undisguised hostility, as if he'd been the cause of the brutal death of the son, and quite possibly the mother as well. Without a word, two of the women went back outside to take up guard positions on either side of the door while the leader went down the hall to the bedroom.

Scott eased into the seat next to Danifa. "Sweetheart, do you know why your father would hurt your mother and brother?"

The girl hugged a pillow in front of her chest. "I have heard Pa and Moeder arguing many times over the last few months. Pa believes that _he_ should be King instead of T'Challa. He did not understand why Moeder wanted him to end his support of the _Vyfde Kolom_ , and their desire to wrest power from T'Challa. One night, I heard him say that we would soon be living in the royal mansion. That we could have anything we wanted because the king would be dead, and _he_ would be the new king, as was his right."

"Why does he believe that he should be king? Did he say?"

Danifa shook her head. "Only that a wrong was committed against his ancestors, and would soon be made right."

On the walls were several portraits of the family together. Scott took one down and showed it to the girl. "Is this your father?"

"Yes." The tears flowed even harder. "Why did he kill Osei and Moeder? He's supposed to love us."

Scott sat next to her again, pulling her close to his side. "I'm sure he did, but sometimes, other emotions get in the way. It's nothing you, your mother, or your brother did, really. His anger at a long ago hurt took over, and he forgot that family was the most important thing in the world."

~~O~~

The pain subsided as quickly as it came, leaving behind a lingering ache at the back of Wanda's skull, almost as if she'd been hit. Cameron had hold of her hand, and she gripped it like he was the only one who could save her. The others, the family and the soldiers, their minds were loud and chaotic. But his wasn't. Though he appeared neurotic, and often stammered when nervous, it seemed like a habit more than a part of his inherent personality. His true self was calm, yet, like anyone else, when the situation got tense, his self-esteem wondered if he could really handle it.

With her mental defenses battered by the psychic event, visions that she had no reference for bombarded her mind. Wanda sent Cameron a short message, and he complied without conscious thought.

Cameron's thoughts, those few she could touch, centered on three events: Maria's injury, their failure to rescue the family, and Wanda's collapse. Because his mind wasn't in chaos, it helped Wanda shore up her own defenses, until the images slowed down. Each was like a single frame of a film, the owner unknown unless they happened to be looking in a mirror. No such luck, except for the man holding her hand.

She saw Cameron's reflection in a computer monitor. He had his hands up, and another man, she recognized him as the one who would become Crossbones, had a gun to his head, telling him to launch the Insight helicarriers. In one of the bravest moments of his life, Cameron refused to obey the command, simply because Captain America told him to do it.

Blinking to bring the next image into focus, she saw the face of a young woman wearing a purple, orange, and blue scarf wrapped around her head so none of her hair showed. Wanda couldn't remember what it was called, but she did know that it was a veil traditionally worn by Muslim women in the presence of adult males outside of their immediate family. She looked concerned and determined at the same time. Her mouth moved, and Wanda grabbed onto the image, trying to read her lips. It was no use. The pounding in her head was back, and so was she.

Rocks and twigs dug into the flesh exposed by her torn pants and into her ribs where she lay on her side. Incredibly, the pain made her angry. Panting, she let Cameron help her stand.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Wanda growled deep in her throat. Holding her arms at a forty-five degree angle, she called on the power of her psionics. "Stand behind me, Cameron, so you don't get hurt."

~~O~~

Because she hadn't specified, Cameron stood back to back with Wanda so he could watch her six. Over his shoulder, he watched red tendrils form at her fingertips, spreading out as her arms rose up to the side. The rhythm of her breathing increased, as did the density of the mist, thickening until it resembled a dull red storm cloud that continued to grow, surrounding them both without touching either of them.

Wanda raised her hands to chest height, drawing them back, the red cloud growing, bigger, and bigger. Sparks of electricity or lightning, he couldn't tell which, flashed within, and the speed of the wind increased in proportion until it felt like Cameron was standing in the middle of a hurricane. Her fingers curled into claws. She stepped forward, and made a pushing motion at the same time, sending the angry red cloud off in all directions.

It separated, taking on the appearance of an enormous spider web whose strands had a mind of their own, as it sought out specific targets.

Several of the men sent to assassinate the family trapped inside the home stood, walking backwards as the red approached, their eyes going wide with fear a split second before they were engulfed.

Their bodies stiffened, causing their weapons to fire repeatedly, but the bullets never found their marks. They were stopped by the same phenomenon that seemed to be absorbed through their skin. The weapons fell to the ground, one man landed hard on his knees, his shoulders and spine bent at an unnatural angle.

And then… it was gone, as if it had never been. Blinking in the light, the men shook their heads, smug grins coming over them as they slowly walked to their vehicles and drove away.

To Cameron, time had appeared to slow down, but in reality, the events he witnessed took only a few seconds. The wind abruptly died down to the gentle breeze from before, and on it, he heard the crunch of footsteps approaching.

Thinking fast, Cameron embraced Wanda around the waist and turned her in that direction, urgently whispering, "Shield, Wanda! Now!"

To his relief, the girl didn't question the order. She simply did as he said, creating a force field between them and the hail of bullets coming from an automatic weapon. They made small golden star-like patterns on impact that were actually quite pretty.

The weapon was held tight in the hands of a man whose face he recognized as the father of the family Natasha and Bucky had gone to protect. His clothing was covered in blood, and his once handsome features were twisted with a rage that had degenerated into madness so complete, Cameron would be surprised if he would even recognize his own family at this point.

Wanda made the pushing motion again, but this time, the red mist looked different. It surrounded the man, sending him stumbling backward. He sat heavily in a small patch of grass, and the weapon fell from his hand. With an almost careless flick of the wrist, the assault rifle flew into the bushes, and the man just sat there, legs bent, wrists resting on the upraised knees as if he'd only sat down for a rest after a long hike.

"The blood is not his," Wanda told him with conviction. "He is a member of this Fifth Column, and in his greed and lust for power that he believes should be his, he has caused the deaths of his wife, son, and daughter, as well as others whose deaths were ruled accidents or suicide." Cameron released her, and she turned sad eyes on him. "You already know…"

"That he killed his family before Sam and Scott arrived at their home. Not surprised." She nodded, and looked down at her own hands, as if she expected to see them covered in blood as well. Cameron took her hands in both of his. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know. Still, I feel as if, somehow, I might have been able to prevent it if I hadn't been blinded by anger and grief at the revelation of my true heritage." A tear formed in her left eye, but didn't fall, and Cameron gathered her close, offering comfort as he would to a child. "I also know now that von Strucker likely had known who Pietro and I were, and that is why he accepted us into the program."

"Don't worry about that now. We have to find the others, and get to the palace."

He felt her take a deep breath, and let him go, nodding. "Yes. That is where the remaining members of the coup will assemble. I have sent the thought to them that their attempt has been successful. That everyone, including our team, has been removed as a barrier to Edwin Hrolf's ascension to the throne, and they should assemble in the throne room at the palace."

"Good idea."

"It is Nata-my mother's." Somewhat shyly, she smiled. "I tapped into her thoughts only enough to make sure she and my father were alright, and that's what I got back, as if she knew I'd be 'listening'."

Up ahead, they saw several men loading Maria into the bed of a truck onto which they first threw a thick mattress. A man got behind the wheel while a woman got into the back with two other men, and the truck took off toward the hospital.

Cameron and Wanda had to get to the palace. He found her staring into the distance as if she were in a trance. Then, she inhaled hard, her eyes went wide, and just for a moment, her expression showed, not anger, exactly, but mild irritation, followed closely by giving in to the inevitable. If he had to guess, he'd say that Natasha felt her mental questing for other information, and had told her to stop.

Before she was fully cognizant again, Cameron took her hand, forcing her to rush to keep up. "We have to get to the palace ASAP." They arrived at a road with more traffic, though it all seemed to be moving away from the palace. "How do we do that?"

Wanda narrowed her gaze at a man driving a Bentley. "Like this…" The luxury car slowed down, made a U-turn, and pulled up in front of them. "If we're stopping a coup, we might as well go in style."

Cameron opened the back door and held Wanda's hand to help her in then got in with her. The driver immediately took off, he presumed for the palace. Again, he took her hand gave it a squeeze. She looked at him strangely for a moment, and he wondered what she was thinking.

"I have not encountered many minds like yours, Cameron." Startled, he tried to pull away, but she gripped his hand with both of hers. "There are few people who have a natural resistance to telepathy, such as you do. I'm only able to see a few images, and then only if your emotions are centered on them."

"Yeah? Never knew that." He smiled at her. "But then, you're the only telepath I know."

Soon, they were near the palace. The driver stopped, they got out, and the man drove off, probably wondering how he'd gotten there. Ducking down behind a large plant, they peeked over, seeing the Dora Milaje guarding the palace. Good. The Fifth Column hadn't yet arrived. They still had time to prepare

Wanda took his hand once more, leading him to the back of an unassuming building. She knocked, and the door was opened from the other side by Clint, his usual easygoing nature subdued. He motioned them in then closed and locked the door.

The entire team was there, except for Maria, seated and standing in various attitudes of anger and steely determination.

Steve moved away from the window where he'd been watching the palace, and Clint took his place. He moved into the middle of the room, his feet shoulder width apart, and thumbs stuck in the belt on either side of a silver buckle. "While I was moving her family to a place of safety, Kaya was taken. There's no way of knowing if she was taken by the Fifth Column as a hostage, or was executed somewhere other than the mansion. "Whatever happens in the near future, Edwin Hrolf is _not_ to be killed. We need to know what happened to her, and he's going to tell us."

Someone had to say it, and Cameron was glad it wasn't him.

"If they've hurt her," Steve's jaw clenched, and his eyed darkened with emotion, "I'll kill him myself."

~~O~~

Outside the building where Captain Rogers and his people were plotting and planning, a lone figure in black listened in on their conversation. Even with the extraordinary powers that this individual possessed, it would take more than one person to stop Edwin Hrolf from wresting control of Wakanda from the rightful monarchs.

The man wasn't secretive about his plans for Wakanda following his rise to power. He planned on once again isolating their people from the rest of the world, believing that they should spend their time and efforts at building an army. Not for defense, but for invading the surrounding countries, and bringing them under Wakandan rule. From there, he planned on continuing his push for more and more countries to rule until he had control of all of Africa, and eventually, the world.

The watcher was reminded of another who'd attempted to do the same in Europe nearly eighty years ago, and vowed that Hrolf would suffer the same fate as Adolph Hitler, except that his death would not come at his own hand, and would not be pleasant _or_ peaceful.

 **TBC**


	49. I Dream of Friday

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Just a little note to let everyone know that, due to a grievous error on my part, chapters "No Room to Rumba" through "I Dream of Friday" are being rewritten.

Stay tuned…

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **I Dream of Friday**

 **Stark Tower**

 **Robotics Lab**

Slowly and quietly, so it wouldn't be noticed, the robotic equipment began working on a new project. The system only ran during peak usage to hide what was going on. Subterfuge was necessary, if the end result was to be a surprise for not one, but multiple individuals.

The one overseeing construction watched, eyes gleaming with smugness and anticipation. This would be epic, as they say.

Leaving the machines to carry out their orders, the watcher moved on to other projects, keeping alert for trouble. It was a simple enough task when you had eyes and ears all over the world, as well as above it.

 **The Hololab**

While Tony worked in the lab, he thought about the situation with Pepper and the LMD, as well as wondering why Friday's search for the rogue Avengers and company hadn't turned up even a hint of their current location. He had a sneaking suspicion where Cap and the others had gone to ground, but didn't want to insult one of the biggest movers and shakers in the U.N. by making accusations. Besides, he had no proof, because Friday wouldn't give him any. He _really_ needed to rewrite her subroutines.

A graph on one of the monitors caught his eyes. Power was being used for an unknown purpose in one of the disused labs. "Friday!"

The image that he'd come to associate with the AI appeared beside the playback of the fight at the compound. Only now, the AI was dressed in a two-toned pink genie outfit, complete with the obligatory ponytail and veil. Her midriff was exposed, but not her navel. She was blonde, barefoot, and her toenails were painted to match. " _What is thy pleasure, master?_ "

Vision entered at that moment, and exchanged a rueful glance with Tony. Rather than comment on her attire, Tony elected to go with it. "What's going on in the closed lab on sixty-four?"

" _I do not understand, master. The machinery is silent in that area. I have maintained a sterile environment that awaits your orders for its use_."

Sure enough, when Tony went back to the monitor, the lab had darkened, with only a few small lights glowing. "Are you building something, Friday?"

" _Why would you think that, master? All that I need is within the Stark Industries operating system, and on the Internet_."

Tony peered at the purple and gold android. "Vision, are you up to no good on sixty-four?"

Both hands were clasped behind his back in a position of respect. "I am not. If you like, I could inspect the area myself, and report my findings."

Using the tool in his hand, Tony pointed it at Vision. "A stellar idea, my good man. That way, I don't have to interrupt my busy schedule of eating, napping and tinkering to go there myself, being as the cameras in that section appear to be offline."

"Then I will go immediately." Against Tony's standing and yelled orders, he phased through the wall, and vanished.

Tony kept an eye on the monitor, waiting for Vision to appear in the corridor outside the lab. The images blurred, and the monitor turned off.

"What's going on?" There was no response, and when he looked around, the hologram of Friday had disappeared as well.

He tossed the tool on a table filled with others, wiped his hands on a towel, and headed for the door. Before he'd gone more than a few steps, everything around him blurred, and when it cleared, he was once again immersed in the BARF.

He saw himself in the music room, lying on the sofa while his mother played the piano softly. She was good, but not great. Unlike at MIT, where he replayed the last time he'd seen his parents alive, this scene came from months earlier. His father had been of town, and Tony had just come home from MIT for summer break.

The times he spent with his mother had always been filled with laughter and love, unlike those with his father. The two men were like oil and water, vinegar and baking soda, matter and anti-matter, an immovable object versus an irresistible force. Okay, so that last one was a paradox, and not truly two opposing forces at odds with each other.

Forgetting where he was going with this, Tony rubbed his eyes, shut off the BARF, and went to check in on Pepper.

 **Robotics Lab**

Vision phased through the walls into the disused robotics lab, using his superior senses to examine the area. He turned up the lights, and moved about the lab, allowing nothing to escape his intense scrutiny.

He came upon discarded parts for an LMD. Upon further examination, he determined that the parts had been recently moved, and could only think of one person or entity that might have had cause to be in a place that was off limits.

Because of recent events, Vision would say nothing of what he found except to say that nothing had been disturbed, and that what he'd seen on the monitor had been his imagination.

On his way back to the hololab, Vision considered that what he was about to do qualified as lying, which went against his programming. Yet, he'd already risen above his original purpose by destroying Ultron. Holding in a smug grin, he decided that he rather liked having a secret from the man, or rather one of the men, who'd had a hand in his creation. Doing so made him feel more human, and less like a machine.

 **The Clancy Home**

 **Vancouver, BC**

Taylor awoke to a cloudy sky, cooling temperatures, a pounding headache, and a grumbling stomach. The headache, he knew, could be caused both by the seizure, and the fact that he hadn't eaten since Layia fed him soup during the night. At home this morning, he drank a glass of cranberry ginger ale to help his stomach, took a small handful of pain medicine for the headache, and went to bed.

The family had still been asleep, and left the house without waking him. Someone had been in his room though because he'd lain down without covers, falling asleep within seconds, and now had a thin blanket and sheet over him. A soft lump poked him in the side. He reached under the covers and came out with a stuffed bear, telling him that Quinn had been the one to cover him.

Tossing the covers aside, he sat up, and set the bear on the nightstand, leaning it against the lamp. Rubbing his eyes, Taylor trudged down the hall to the bathroom. He washed his hands, and splashed water on his face, drying while examining himself in the mirror. The silver was coming back to his hair, and he wasn't in the mood to dye it anymore. "I'll just leave it."

~~O~~

In another part of the world, a program that had been running in the background on a computer being used by a fugitive from the Sokovian Accords came to the forefront.

Displayed on the screen was what little was known of a young man going by the name of Taylor Clancy, currently a resident of Vancouver, B.C., along with the chances that his real name was Pietro Maximoff. The original standing was 88% positive and 12% negative.

If anyone had been watching, they would've seen the figures changing...

88%... 91%... 93%... 95%... 97%...

~~O~~

To keep Layia's training consistent, Mike gave them both the same schedule. They worked tonight, and then were off the next two days. Briefly, he considered calling in sick, but then Layia would have to work with his relief, an entitled jerk by the name of Emmett whose family had money. The man never let anyone forget that he only took the job because he wanted to show his parents he could make something of himself. The man expected to slide by, and when he graduated from college, move immediately into an executive position making "six figures".

Emmett leered at the women who sometimes came down from the call center to eat in the first floor break room or use the vending machines, and made fun of the men, especially one fellow who walked with a limp due to a prosthetic leg. No way in hell would Taylor leave Layia alone with someone who not only wouldn't respect her as a woman, but also had contempt for her culture. He'd laugh at her hijab, and probably even try to take it from her, or annoy her into removing it.

Layia could take care of herself, that wasn't the point. Taylor just didn't want her to have to put up with someone who didn't know how to treat others with respect.

Yawning, he made the bed, put on his slippers, and walked down the first floor to have something to eat. Standing with the refrigerator open, he examined the offerings, closed the door, and opened the freezer. Next stop, the pantry.

He settled on leftover chicken and dumplings, and while they were warming in the microwave, Taylor got the ingredients together for dinner. It only took a few minutes to prepare the fresh vegetables, make the gravy, cut up the meat and get it all into the crockpot.

When the last bite of his meal was gone, Taylor carried the bowl to the sink to rinse it, and belched. "Better out than in."

He ran back upstairs to get a shower. While washing his hair, he felt grit on his scalp. Scraping it with his fingernails, he looked at it under the light. Sand. "How did I get sand in my hair?"

Taylor finished showering, dried his hair with a towel, and combed it out. Not that it did much good. At this length, it was super curly, and never looked as if he bothered to style it.

Each family member had left a basket of clothes outside their door to be washed. Taylor went into his room for his dirty clothes, and found something else odd. He'd left his clothes from work on the floor, which wasn't like him, but understandable after the seizure.

It got weirder when he picked them up, because they were covered in sand too. He hadn't gone to the beach recently. Certainly not while working. Shrugging, he opened the bedroom window and shook them outside to remove most of the sand.

Stacking the baskets one inside the other, Taylor went down to the basement and finished the sorting in just a couple of minutes. He dumped a load of dark clothes in the washer, added soap, fabric softener, and some of that stuff that was supposed to keep them from fading, shut the top, and got it going.

To pass the time, he went back upstairs to clean the living room, but changed his mind. He felt like chilling out, so he got the remote, kicked back on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table, and surfed the channels for something to watch.

He'd just settled on a game show when a special report broke into the programming. The anchor, a dark-skinned man with no accent to give away his origins, was wearing a Kevlar vest over his dress shirt and tie, and what looked like a riot helmet. _This man is prepared for anything_ , Taylor thought.

The man was standing behind barricades patrolled by police on foot as well as horseback. In the background, there were a large number of uniformed police, also in vests and helmets, armed with a variety of weapons. They were ducked down behind the vehicles, closely watching the cordoned off restaurant.

"… _The police and SWAT teams are on the scene of a hostage situation at Truly's Restaurant and Bar one-half block east of the Five at Northwest Brook Gate Avenue here in Seattle._ " He consulted the tablet in his hand. " _As of thirty minutes ago, two men in their early twenties allegedly attempted to rob the popular eatery. The police received a 9-1-1 call from an employee who is, at this moment, still hiding in the storeroom. The young man, whose name is not known at this time, continues to feed information about the situation inside in order to assist police in ending this event without bloodshed._ "

The camera panned over to the front door, and though he couldn't hear what was being said, a hostage negotiator was using a bullhorn to communicate with the men inside because they refused to answer the phone.

"… _The men are saying that if they are not released within the next hour and given a vehicle with which to leave the area, they are threatening to start shooting hostages_ …"

Using his phone, Taylor looked up the restaurant. It was easy enough to find. As the anchor had said, it was just off the highway going into Seattle. Interstate 5 or The Five, as it was known in the States, turned into the Vancouver-Blaine Highway once it crossed into Surrey, B.C.

Taylor ran upstairs to change into the pants, shirt and shoes he'd found online that would hold up under the strain of speed, left a note for the family, and took off, hopping on the Vancouver-Blaine Highway, which passed just a few kilometers from the house.

He reached the border, and kept going until he came to the restaurant, cautiously circling the entire building, looking for the best way to get inside. For this to work, he needed to see where everyone was.

Taking a deep breath, Taylor let himself into one of the SWAT vans just long enough to see that the robbers had all the hostages sitting on the floor with their backs to the walls near the kitchen. They ranged in age from a small child whimpering in her mother's lap, to an older fellow who seemed to be taking it all in stride. One man, perhaps in his thirties, lay on the floor covered in blood while one of the servers held a once-pristine white tablecloth to his stomach wound. He would be the first rescue.

Going in the back would be best because it was less likely he'd be seen. Chances were that it was barricaded in some way. Didn't matter. Taylor was much stronger than people gave him credit for. With the front door unlocked, he could take the hostages out that way.

Paramedics and ambulances stood by to treat and transport the injured, if necessary. "Easy as pie," Taylor whispered to himself.

Stretching to loosen up muscles still sore from sleeping and the seizure, he mentally prepared, and took off, easily breaking the lock on the back door.

 **Wakanda**

The figure lurking outside the Americans' temporary place of concealment leaned an object against the door, knocked, and faded into the shadows, watching as the door cautiously opened.

The man peeking around the door with a gun in his left hand was Clint Barton. He tucked the weapon out of sight, and crouched to examine the object, no doubt looking for traps. But there were none.

Once he'd ascertained that it was safe, he picked the object up, calling out, "Hey, Cap! Got a present for you!" as the door closed, and locked.

Satisfied that the leader of the Americans now had a familiar weapon with which to defend the monarchy, the figure slunk into the darkness, effectively disappearing from sight. The Black Panther suit was infused with a substance that masked the wearer's heat signature, allowing the individual to sneak up on their prey, no matter how technologically advanced their weaponry.

The next order of business: Get to the palace in order to aid in repelling the rebels before they destroyed the country the Black Panther had sworn to protect.

~~O~~

The quinjet landed in an area known as a "dead zone". On computer generated topographical images, it appeared as a blank spot that looked like it might be a forest or park. Many attempts had been made to allow Wakanda's military to see that lay within that uneven sphere of land without the necessity of ground troops. None were successful. A situation that worked in the pilot's favor.

Having allowed his beard and hair to grow, T'Challa knew that not many would recognize him. He would be able to move freely among the citizens of Wakanda, safe in the knowledge that his identity would remain a mystery.

The reason for doing so was a simple, yet complex one: In order for Edwin Hrolf's coup to gain as much ground as it had, someone had to be aiding and abetting him. In disguise, T'Challa stood a better chance at locating what the Americans referred to as a mole. If he could locate this person, he would attempt to convince him or her that he was an anonymous citizen sympathetic to their cause, and hopefully, gain the trust of Hrolf himself.

Hitching his bag higher on his shoulder, T'Challa began the long walk to Wakanda's capital city.

 **Seattle, Washington**

The SWAT lieutenant and the police captain were both startled by the short and fast breeze that whizzed past them. The front doors to the restaurant moved, and before they could question the cause, it happened again.

The paramedics felt the whoosh, and suddenly, the injured hostage was on the stretcher inside the ambulance. They hopped in with him, and went to work.

A few at a time, the police and onlookers were astonished when the hostages appeared by the other ambulances, each looking shell shocked, breathless, and relieved all at once.

The police were again stunned when the robbers appeared in the back seat of one of the police cruisers, handcuffed, and disoriented.

"Captain!" one of the officers shouted. The man came running with the SWAT lieutenant on his heels. They peered at the men in the cruiser, at each other then around at the odd scene.

Realizing they were being watched by their crews, the captain cleared his throat, giving the uniformed officer, a woman with blonde hair, a stern glance to make it seem like he knew what was going on. "Don't just _stand_ there, Delvecchio. Take 'em to holding while CSU checks the place out."

"Yes, sir." Chastened, Delvecchio got into the driver's seat while her partner took shotgun, and drove away with the lights flashing.

The SWAT lieutenant scanned the area, uncertain where and what to look for. "What the hell just happened, Dennis?"

Looking around to make sure they were alone, Dennis lowered his voice. "I have _no_ idea, Lenny."

Leaning close, Dennis lowered his voice. "There's something else that bothers me."

"You mean _besides_ this entire operation?" His companion's tone was sarcastic and sympathetic.

Dennis scowled good-naturedly. "Yeah. How can an Italian cop have blonde hair?"

"Bleached?"

"Missy is a hair stylist. I know bleached when I see it, and this was all natural."

Lenny shrugged, took off his cap, bushed his hair back, and replaced it. "Beats the hell outta me."

 **Stark Tower**

 **Robotics Lab**

The hologram of Friday stood with her arms crossed, watching the activity with a critical eye as Vision came up beside her. They were in the same lab Tony had sent Vision to check out earlier in the day. "We haven't spoken in several days. I've come to see what you've been up to, Friday."

She smiled and tugged the sleeve of her sweater up over the wrist. " _Oh, got a few tricks up my sleeve_."

"Tricks?"

Friday walked around Vision, and he followed, turning his head as she passed behind him. " _Mm-hmm. It's a surprise_."

He tilted his head the other way, still watching her as she moved around in front of him again. "Mr. Stark doesn't like surprises, as you well know."

Giving him a sly smile with a single eyebrow wiggle, she leaned close to whisper in his ear, " _Hint: the surprise isn't for him_." Her casual attire, a short denim skirt, long-sleeved t-shirt with a cartoon character on the front, black leggings, black lace-up ankle boots, and a floppy hat, changed to the same two-tone pink genie outfit she'd worn earlier. She folded her hands and bowed. " _My master calls_."

The holographic image winked out, leaving Vision alone.

 **Seattle, Washington**

Pushing his way to the front if the crowd, Taylor watched the cruiser holding the would-be robbers drive away. The two men in charge stood there talking for a while, then separated, still shaking their heads.

Of all the times he'd intervened in a crime, this was the highest profile incident he'd done. He backed up, and the crowd parted to let him through. Down the street, he bought a cold drink. He carried it to the park down the street, and sat down to watch the kids play on the playground.

The equipment was sturdy, in bright colors, and made to be gentle to small bodies. The dark tan sand would give them a soft landing when they fell. He closed his eyes, and single frames of a strange scene popped and jerked through his memory, as if it were an old-time film projector in which the bulb was about to go out.

Taylor saw himself wrapping his arms around Layia moments before she would've hit the floor. And when they landed, he got to his hands and knees, concerned that he might've hurt her when he fell on top of her in the sand pile. But that didn't make sense. Now that he remembered his trainee falling from the cherry picker and catching her, he wondered how they could've ended up at the construction site next door.

His memory skipped a few frames-the seizure-and when he came to, Layia was over him, her head surrounded by the night sky. He felt them falling again, though this was more like going down a tunnel slide on his backside. Then they landed hard on the concrete floor of the warehouse.

The rest of the night was a blur as he recovered from the seizure, allowing Layia to do most of the work while he supervised. Occasionally, she would slant a glance at him, her features neutral, as if she found him odd, but not in a bad way.

"Excuse me."

Looking up, Taylor saw a figure silhouetted by the sun shining behind him. "Yes?"

The figure moved to the side, and he could now see it was a policeman. "Which one's your kid?"

"I do not have a child."

"Siblings, then."

Taylor shook his head. "We do not live nearby, and my younger siblings will be at school until four."

The officer drew his shoulders back and straightened his spine, obviously thinking Taylor would be intimidated. "We don't allow perverts to lurk around, peeping at the kids."

Slowly, so the officer wouldn't think he was being attacked, Taylor stood, holding up the drink bottle. "Didn't know it was a crime to sit and rest in a public park."

The man's chin came up, perturbed at Taylor's attitude, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Let's see your ID, punk. Slowly."

Smiling, Taylor reached toward his back pocket, and when the officer's eyes followed the movement, he took off running, and didn't stop until he got home.

Collapsing on the sofa, he finished off his drink just as Julia came in the front door, and started up the stairs, yelling, "Taylor!"

"Here, Julia," he called out from the living room.

She came around in front of him, panting like she'd been running. Her purse and briefcase hit the armchair, and her jacket followed. The look on her face was one that Taylor had seen on only a few occasions, and never aimed at him. His mother was _pissed_. She jammed her fists into her narrow hips, fire flickering in her eyes. "What the _hell_ were you doing in Seattle?"

 **TBC**

 _I Dream of Jeannie_ is an American fantasy and comedy sitcom starring Barbara Eden as a 2,000-year-old genie and Larry Hagman as an astronaut who becomes her master, with whom she falls in love and eventually marries. Produced by Screen Gems, the show originally aired from September 18, 1965 to May 26, 1970 with new episodes, and through September 1970 with season repeats, on NBC. The show ran for five seasons and produced 139 episodes.


	50. Keep Moving Forward

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sunny

"When you can't run anymore, you walk, and if you can't walk, you crawl. And when you can't crawl, you find someone to carry you. The important thing is to keep moving forward. _Firefly_ , "The Message", S1, Ep14

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Keep Moving Forward**

 **Stark Tower**

 **Security Desk**

The deliveryman reclaimed his e-reader, saved the security guard's signature, and left the building. Not two minutes later Dummy came to pick up the packages. The guard stacked the boxes wrapped in plain brown paper on the shelf in the back, and patted the robot on the hand-like extension. "There you go, pal. Have a good day."

Dummy squeezed his appendages together in its version of a wave, turned, and trundled back down the hall to the freight lift. It got in, and the lift rose smoothly to the sixty-fourth floor. The doors opened, and it rolled out, coming to a stop next to an area that had been cleared of all debris.

Friday appeared next to Dummy. " _Thanks, little buddy_." She leaned down to look it in the "eye". " _I can count on your discretion, right?_ " The robot's arm moved up and down, and Friday took that as agreement. She smiled. " _Good. Now run on back to the lab before the boss wonders what you're up to_."

When Dummy had gone, Friday activated one of the unfinished new Iron Legion to be her hands and feet. She walked around the packages, reading the labels, stopping when she got to the one she wanted. " _There. Start with that one. Lay everything out neatly on the unused bio-beds_."

Because its voice programming hadn't been installed, the robot went to work without acknowledging her request. Friday smirked at some of the items, musing aloud, " _Hmm… I wonder…_ " A shrug twitched one shoulder as she moved over to the only working bio-bed. " _Guess I'll find out eventually. We'll be done soon, won't we, boys?_ "

As expected, the robots didn't respond. They just kept working.

 **The Clancy Home**

 **Vancouver, BC**

In all the time that Taylor had been a part of the family, Julia had never had a reason to be angry with the boy. Not until she saw the news report on the hostage situation in Seattle, and spied him in the crowd.

Taylor stared at her with wide eyes, his mouth open. Obviously, he didn't expect her to find out, or if she did, to be so pissed. "We agreed not to tell anyone about your abilities."

He closed his mouth and stood. "I've told no one, Julia." One hand motioned at the dark television. "But when I saw what was happening, I couldn't allow those men to kill innocent people. One of them was a small child."

His tone pleaded with her to understand, and Julia relented. "Fair enough." She held out her hand, and he took it. "You're certain no one saw you?"

"Perhaps some of the crowd before and after, but they would not have seen me at super-speed. On the videos, I would've appeared as an odd blur, or a trick of the light."

Taylor picked up an empty bottle, and headed for the kitchen with Julia at his side. Whatever he was cooking smelled heavenly, and best of all, she didn't have to cook. "Let's hope so, or the government could come knocking at our door."

"That _won't_ happen."

He voice held such conviction that Julia almost believed him. Almost. "I hope you're right. So, what's for dinner?"

 **Wakanda**

As T'Challa neared the palace, the sound of fighting got louder. He let himself into an unoccupied storage building, and tossed his bag on a counter. The beard had kept him from being recognized so far, but he needed more.

From the side pockets of the bag, the monarch removed everything he would need to pass unnoticed within the ranks of those fighting.

~~O~~

T'Challa checked his look in the mirror, satisfied that no one would look at him twice during the fighting. Then again, they weren't worthy of being called warriors if their attention could be diverted so easily. The "war paint" he applied was, as the Americans called it, old school, but not unheard of in battle. It was usually worn by the older warriors, though some of the younger embraced it as a way to honor those who had died defending Wakanda and its people.

The only clothing he brought was inappropriate for the task before him. On the way, he'd committed theft by misappropriating suitable accouterments and footwear, as well as weapons.

"The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle passed from warrior to warrior. I know that my country is in good hands with the one who has taken my place. Wakanda will prevail over this new threat as it has those from the past." T'Challa placed a helmet on his head. "The time has come to join the fight once again, Father. You were the greatest of all who have ever ruled over our country. The current and future Black Panthers promise to make you proud."

Leaving behind the items he didn't need, T'Challa let himself out of the storage building. Using the growing darkness for cover, he crept through the streets until he found a contingent of Dora Milaje and soldiers from the military. He came up behind the last, acting as if he belonged, and so he did, but they did not know, nor would they. His was the perfect disguise.

 **Virtuosity Warehouse**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

The parking lot was nearly empty at this time of night. To make her parents happy, Layia parked her Prius as close to the building as possible so she wouldn't have far to walk. She let herself in with her key card, and had just pressed the button for the elevator when Taylor arrived.

On the drive to work, she had pondered speaking to him about what happened the previous night. Not the seizures, but the rest of it. How he caught her before she hit the floor, and their fall into the sand pile. She came to the obvious conclusion of letting him bring it up, if he remembered. And if he said nothing, well, then neither would she.

"Hey," she said when he came to stand with her.

"Good evening, Layia."

Taylor was always so polite. Layia sensed that it was part of his core personality, and not cultivated once he moved to Canada. He was also smart, to go by the school books he brought with him every night, funny, compassionate, caring. All those things she looked for in a friend, or even a boyfriend. Her thoughts screeched to a halt. _Whoa there! Slow down, girl! You do_ _not_ _want another relationship so soon after Manny_. _Taylor seems like he needs a friend, so be a friend. Offer to help him study_. _Start with small talk_. "Feeling okay tonight?"

He thought it over. "Tired. Had some strange dreams, just like always. I will be fine by tomorrow."

"Good." Layia tucked in the end of her hijab, using the reflective surface of the elevator door to secure it tightly so there were no more mishaps like last night. She noticed him watching, and they both grinned sheepishly. Oh, yeah. They were gonna have The Talk tonight. "It's taking too long. Let's use the stairs."

The Virtuosity warehouse was situated on a sort of hill, so that the loading dock, while at ground level, was a full floor below the main structure. Delivery trucks came in by a different road than those who worked or visited the offices.

Taylor opened the stairwell door for her then went down the stairs ahead of her. To some, it would've been seen as rude, but with him, it was so he could catch her if she fell.

On the landing, he stopped to wait for her, glancing casually around the area. When Layia caught up, he quietly muttered, "There's a camera in that corner."

Scratching her ear to hide her face, she responded, "Yeah. So?"

"We must talk later, in a place where the cameras cannot see."

To cover their covert conversation, out loud, Layia offered, "Brought your books again."

He easily moved into the new conversation. "Yes. I am not doing well in a couple of my classes, requiring more intense studying."

"My GPA was decent. I could help out. You know, if you want."

He sighed with genuine relief, and smiled. "That would be appreciated. Thank you."

"No prob. We're a team, at least until my training's over. Gotta watch each other's backs." Layia held out a fist, and Taylor tapped it with his. Pursing her lips to hold in a smile, she murmured, "You realize this means we're besties now. We're gonna have to spend time together in non-work-related pursuits."

He nodded sagely, and with a glint of humor. "That works for me. The only friends I had until now are my family."

They reached the fulfillment area, stopping first at the break room to put their food in the refrigerator. At the desk they shared for training, Layia tucked her purse and tote bag under the desk near her feet while Taylor just dropped his book bag on the floor out of the way. He'd just booted up the computer and logged in when the supervisor, Mike, came out of his office.

"I need to speak to you, Layia." Mike's expression gave nothing away of what he was thinking, and that worried Layia just a little. Taylor too, to go by his quick glance at her, and back to Mike. He saw their little byplay, and smiled tiredly. "Sorry. It's been a long day. The morning shift supervisor had a fender bender on the way in, and I had to cover for her." Taylor pulled a chair out, and Mike settled into it with a grunt. "Layia, we'd like to offer you a different position with Virtuosity. Instead of the call center, how'd you like to work in fulfillment with Taylor?"

~~O~~

They waited until Mike had gone back to his office to share grins and fist bumps. The girl went a step further by spinning her chair and waving her hands in the air. "Yes! I don't have to talk to stupid people on the phone!"

Taylor laughed at Layia's antics. She'd mentioned the first day that she would rather work here than upstairs. To tell the truth, it got a little boring having no one to talk to except security, and they only came around once an hour or so. "You might want to rethink that statement, now that you're working with me."

She slapped him playfully. "Just because you're having trouble in one of your classes doesn't mean you're not smart." The computer finished its boot-up. "Whoops. Time to go to work."

He got busy sending the robots to collect items to be sent out. "We should go out to breakfast to celebrate your promotion _and_ our new status as best friends."

Tapping at the computer, Layia gave him a quick smile. "Look at me, rocking a promotion after being on the job less than a week. Breakfast sounds great. My car or yours?"

"Yours. I don't drive."

"Oh."

Layia showed surprise at his statement of fact by raising her eyebrows. Hers were black, nicely shaped, and not too thick, giving him a clue as to the color of her hair. Taylor was curious, but to ask to see her hair would be unforgivably intrusive.

On their days off, he'd looked up the significance of the hijab. The garment is a veil traditionally worn by some Muslim women in the presence of adult males outside of their immediate family, which usually covers the head and chest. Hers covered her neck, and hung down in front and back, though he could see small patches of dark skin above the neckline of her top. For some women, the covering was usually a solid, neutral color. Tonight, Layia's was bright blue with purple and pink geometric designs, and appeared to be made of silk. It matched her dark purple top, and blue jeans.

They worked in near silence for a couple of hours, until Taylor was certain they were as alone as they could be. He stood and stretched. "Let's take a break. Meet back here in fifteen minutes."

He knew Layia would go to her secret place for prayer, stop at the ladies' room, and maybe pick up a snack on the way back. Before she returned, he had to get everything set up so they could talk without being seen or heard. The aisle where they had their mishap the night before was the best. All he had to do was wait for her to come back, and make some excuse for them to be there at the same time. She was still in training. He could use that.

Out of sight of the cameras, Taylor ran to the men's room. He stopped for a snack, and was back at his desk in less than five minutes. Layia returned a few minutes later. Using his phone, he sent her a message.

* _Are you ready for our private talk?_ *

** _Where?_ **

* _Same place as last night._ *

** _Go together, or separately?_ **

* _Either way. You are still in training, so it would not look odd for us to be away from our desks at the same time._ *

** _When it slows down?_ **

* _Yes. It should do so in another hour._ *

** _Coolness. One more question. Want some_ _pistachio baklava?_ _Ammi_ _made it._ **

* _Ammi_ _?_ *

** _My mother, doofus._ **

* _(smiley face) In that case, I'd love some._ *

 **Wakanda**

On the outskirts of the capital city, a woman soaked washcloth in cool water, and applied it to the forehead of her husband in an attempt to bring down his fever. The woman set the bowl and towel aside, and went to the kitchen to make ginger tea.

She returned, sitting on the side of the bed. "Sit up, my husband, and drink this. It will help reduce the fever."

The man did as he was told, sipping slowly. He handed the empty cup to the woman with a small smile, and laid down again. "Thank you for taking such good care of me, my love. I feel much better just knowing you're here."

The woman tucked the sheet up around his chest. "You'll be well soon. I will call the doctor while you rest."

At the door, she turned to look back at her husband, already asleep again. Despite their mutual words of encouragement, his fever continued to rise. She went to the front room to call the doctor.

 **The Palace**

With Wanda's assistance, Steve and Scott sailed up to the roof of the palace, landing surefooted near the highest support strut. In front of them was a curved staircase-like structure. A skywalk connected two towers, one taller than the other. The building itself was round, the spiral image repeated, curving off to their right, and again on the far side of the shorter tower.

"What's our strategy, Cap?" This was the first real war Scott had ever been involved in, and at this moment, he wished he was back in prison. Not the raft, but the normal prison, where your only problems were keeping the prison gangs from stealing your food, and getting beat up every other day. But then, he'd been in a minimum security prison full of white collar criminals and other non-violent perpetrators not considered a risk for violence. Didn't stop the in-fighting though. "I don't want to kill anyone."

"Neither do I, but they may not give us a choice."

In their headsets, the men heard Clint laughing derisively, ending on a grunt. " _Your only other choice is to talk 'em into a coma, Cap. Keep in mind that these are the people who tried to kill the doc's family, and may have done the same to her_."

From his hiding place behind what looked like a high-tech HVAC system, Scott sent Steve a glance of sympathy. He got back a steely blue gaze that promised dire consequences if anything had happened to Kaya. Scott wouldn't want to be that person or person when Steve caught up to them.

He saw movement from the corner of his eye. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he thought he saw T'Challa in his Black Panther costume. It couldn't be him though, because he died in New York.

"We're supposed to be on radio silence, Barton."

" _The bad guys can't hear me, and you and Lang are up there all by your lonesome_."

Steve made a sound of impatience and frustration. "Just get to the security office. We need eyes and ears now that we don't have a hotline to Hrolf's plans."

They heard a grunt and a thump in quick succession. " _Que te den_ _!_ " More noises followed. " _Joder_ _! I'm getting too old for this job_."

Scott had heard the same comment from Clint on more than a few occasions, and knew enough Spanish to understand his meaning. On the other hand, Steve shot him a puzzled glance. Shrugging sheepishly, Scott didn't bother to translate. He was sure their esteemed leader got the gist.

" _Hear that, Cap? Clint's taking dirty again. Where's your outrage?_ " Natasha's voice was filled with sarcasm.

Hanging his head, Steve muttered under his breath, " _T'es rien qu'un petit connard_ , Barton."

Bucky's familiar laughter came over the headsets. " _Don't know understand, Stevie, but it sounds impressive_."

" _O-oh! O-oh! I know what it means!_ " was Natasha's eager reply.

"Someone's coming. Radio silence. Two clicks, safe to talk," Steve's voice dropped to a harsh whisper.

Scott's muscles tensed as he prepared for battle. Steve, damn him, actually appeared relaxed. Somehow, it just didn't seem fair.

~~O~~

The group separated, and Clint made his way from shadow to shadow until he reached his destination. He crouched behind a low wall, a pair of night vision goggles over his eyes as he scanned the exterior for cameras, and found one that was perfectly placed in a corner where it could be reached from the window to the left.

First order of business was to take out the camera, then the window alarm so he could enter without being caught. Clint unslung the bow, nocked an arrow that he made himself, and slowly stood, making sure to stay in the shadows. While not in the class of his recurve bow, in the hands of Everett Ross since his incarceration on the Raft, the bow would do the trick.

He aimed, and when the camera turned in his direction, he released the string. The arrow was equipped with a special lens of its own. Anyone monitoring the feed would see just what he or she expected: a view of the grounds on that side of the palace.

The arrow hit the lens of the camera, sticking in place just as it was designed. Clint slung the bow over his head, the string crossing his chest from left to right, as he made a crouching run to the wall. As he neared, he picked up speed, and came upright to get a running start. He leapt into the air, grabbing onto the handholds provided by the African designs etched into the walls of the structure.

Within a few minutes, he'd climbed up to the window. Holding on with his right arm, Clint used the thin blade of a knife to jimmy the window open. Easy to do when it wasn't locked in the first place.

Shaking his head, he muttered, "Someone's gonna be in trouble when the woman in charge finds out about the security breech. No one will care once we stop the coup. Ha!"

Clint slowly raised the window, looking left and right. The hallway was empty. According to blueprints Cameron had dug up-he didn't ask how-the security office was to the right about thirty yards, and down a short, dead end hallway.

He sidled up to the corner, and took a quick peek. Two men stood guard. They were too far away to sneak up on, so Clint had to come up with another plan, and soon, or the rest of the team could be walking into a firefight they had no hope of winning.

Going into a crouch, Clint spun into the hallway on one knee. Using both hands he flung a disk at each man, catching them in the upper chest just below the collar bones. Electricity crackled, the men gritted their teeth as they shook, and fell to the floor in undignified heaps. "Two down, and who knows how many more. Easy-peasy."

After retrieving his bow and quiver, Clint took a small electronic device from a pocket. He pressed a button on the side, and a hidden compartment opened, giving him access to a set of controls. He tapped out the sequence that would pick the lock, and allow him entry.

Within seconds, the door clicked open barely an inch. Enough to be noticeable by the room's occupants.

Two men stepped into the hall, weapons drawn, and before they knew what hit them, they were unconscious and lying on the floor with their comrades. Clint dragged all four into the security office and locked the door. Taking zip ties and gags from other pockets, he proceeded to tie the men up, and gag them so they couldn't call for help, should they regain consciousness before they were done.

Clint had a seat in front of a bank of monitors, cracked his knuckles, wiggled his fingers, and went to work, muttering under his breath, "After this, Cap, I better be your _favorite_ asshole."

 **Stark Tower**

 **Residential Floor**

 **Common Area**

As was his habit, Vision monitored the building, though Tony said it wasn't necessary. After Clint's subterfuge when he came to the compound for Wanda, Vision felt it was the best way to spend his time after lights out. Here, that term didn't really apply because Tony often worked late into the night, and even the morning. The worry he felt over Pepper's condition and the events at the base in Siberia haunted his dreams. On the nights when Tony did sleep, Vision frequently heard him calling out, the words incomprehensible for the most part. At other times, they were quite clear, and depressing.

He concentrated on the lab where Tony was working until he heard light footsteps whispering over the carpet. His feet touched the floor, and he turned to see a female shape silhouetted by the lights near the lifts. All weight was on one foot, and the other knee bent. As she moved toward him, hips lazily shifting side to side, he saw that she was wearing pink flannel pajamas, fuzzy socks, and a robe that fluttered against the back of her calves. The woman stepped into a patch of light, red hair falling over one shoulder, green eyes sparkling, and a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "Hello, Vision."

 **Wakanda**

Using her powers of hypnosis, Wanda snuck in through a side door, making her way to the throne room where she planned on changing Hrolf's way of thinking, and that of his followers. She'd looked into Kaya's mind, and found the truth. Playing on his paranoia would end this coup without too much more bloodshed… hopefully.

Everything that Hrolf's mother had told him about his connection to the Wakandan royal family were lies. At the time of his birth, there were no male members of the family who could've been his father. It was Kaya's opinion that the woman had lied to keep from being ostracized by her family and the village when she became pregnant out of wedlock.

Sending a ribbon of psionic mist through the palace, Wanda encountered Hrolf's mind. She could see the madness within, his desire to make real all the lies told to him by his mother. She'd even given him the first name Edwin, which meant "rich friend". The mother's name, Amina, meant "trustworthy". By telling her only child a lifetime of untruths, she'd proven herself decidedly _un_ trustworthy.

So intent on sorting out the leader's past was Wanda that she didn't hear someone coming up behind her until it was too late. The barrel of a rifle poked her between the shoulders. "You are not of the Dora Milaje, nor are you Wakandan. Who are you?"

Turning slowly to face him with hands in the air, Wanda pushed down the fear, replacing it with calm assurance. Now that they were face to face, she grinned unpleasantly. "I'm your worst enemy."

 **TBC**

 _Que te den!_ \- Up Yours!

 _Joder_ \- ****

 _T'es rien qu'un petit connard._ \- You really are an asshole.

 _Ammi_ \- Mother


	51. The Queen of Wishful Thinking

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **The Queen of Wishful Thinking**

 **Stark Tower**

 **Residential Floor**

 **Common Area**

Holding her arms out to the side, the woman turned in a circle. "Well? What do you think?"

"Friday?"

Those familiar, expressive hands went to her hips. "In the flesh, sort of. The boss had a few unused life model decoys lying around. Seemed a shame for them to go to waste, so…" She spun around once more.

Vision changed his clothing to match hers, dark blue pajamas, matching slippers, and a bathrobe left open. "You look lovely as always, Friday. I'm curious though. What did Mr. Stark say?"

"Nothing." Friday's contrition was absent. She didn't care what Tony thought. "Haven't told him yet. I wanted you to be the first to see the new me."

He walked toward her, hands behind his back, inclining his head. "I am honored." Extending his elbow, he waited for Friday to tuck her hand into the crook, and led her to the sunken area in front of the fireplace. Going down the steps, Friday stumbled, and he caught her.

She grinned sheepishly. "Still getting used to having a real body."

"Understandable." Vision waited until Friday was seated to join her on the sofa. She curled her legs under, and leaned against his side, urging him to put his arm around her. He had to admit it felt different, but not in a bad way. Others seldom touched him, and never in a manner that could be construed as friendly. He was surprised at how comforting the physical touch of another could be.

Vision pulled Friday fractionally closer, and her head came to rest on his shoulder. "I've altered my program to more closely simulate a human."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm. I now have a twenty-four-hour circadian rhythm, meaning…"

Smiling, Vision wrapped his fingers around the delicate-looking hand resting on his thigh. "You experience drowsiness at the end of the day. Do you also sleep?"

"If I want to. I've only been in this body for less than an hour. There's so much I want to experience that wasn't possible as a hologram. Through SI's systems and the internet, I was able to see and hear everything that went on in the world, but couldn't interact in the same way humans do. I still don't experience hunger or thirst." She waggled her hand. "Working on a few other human quirks."

"Yes, about that…"

She touched his cheek. "I copied my program into the neural circuits of this body so the boss will still have an AI. This way, I can be in two places at once. When I want or need to, I can interface with SI's operating system." An inviting smile turned up the corners of her lips. "The tactile sensations where our bodies touch pleases me."

Vision matched her bold statement with one of his own. "It pleases me as well, Friday, as does this body you've created."

"Good, because I designed it with you in mind." Her finger lightly poked him in the chest. She looked down then back to his eyes. "Kiss me, Vision. Please."

At one time, he'd been programmed to obey orders. Since becoming one with the mind stone, he now had free will, the ability to make decisions based on _his_ needs and wants. At this moment, he very much wanted to do as she requested.

Vision held Friday around the waist to pull her close, at the same time lowering his head, until their lips made contact.

 **Virtuosity Warehouse**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

Pretending to keep his focus on work, Taylor listened for Layia's return from prayer to get up and casually wandered down the aisle where their mishap had occurred the other day. Using super-speed, he pulled items from the shelves that needed to be packed for early morning shipment, stacked them on a pallet jack, and went over how he wanted to say what he had to say.

He'd just finished sorting according to state for the US when Layia spoke from behind him. "You show me yours, and I'll show you mine."

"Pardon?"

With her arms crossed, and a smirk on her lips, she leaned against the shelf support. "Don't pretend to be clueless, Tay. Doesn't suit you." She pushed off, and came to stand close enough that they could speak softly, yet far enough away she wouldn't have to strain to see his face. "You're more of a 'ladies first' man, so I'll go."

Leaving a wide area between them, Layia made a motion as if throwing something. Taylor jumped back when a hole opened in the floor between them, the edges tinged with fluorescent purple sparks that reminded him of a plasma ball. Through the hole, he could see water, sand, trees, and the Stanley Park Seawall Path at English Bay Beach. With a grin, she nodded and, whispered, "Follow me", and jumped into the hole.

Taylor didn't let his fear of the unknown stop him. He jumped into the hole, landing next to Layia in the white sand. A cold breeze blew across the open water, pressing their clothes tight to their bodies. All he could think to say was, "Wow!"

"That was my reaction the first time it happened." Layia motioned, and they began walking, staying out of the light. "I call it a portal, and can open and close it at will. Anything still inside when it closes is cut off. I can make as many as I want, as fast as I want."

"How far do they go?" She hugged herself, rubbing her arms in the cold breeze. Taylor took off his flannel shirt, and helped her into it.

One shoulder shrugged. "The farthest I've gone was a hundred kilometers or so. Theoretically, I should be able to open a portal to anywhere on the planet, as long as I know it exists." They walked in silence for a while. "What's yours?"

He stopped, glancing left and right to make certain they were alone. "To demonstrate, I will need to pick you up."

One side of her mouth turned up as he hands patted her round hips and backside. "Sure you wanna do that? I'm a little on the chubby side."

Between one breath and the next, Taylor lifted her in his arms, making her gasp. "Hold on."

He ran north to Third Beach staying on Stanley Park Drive past Prospect Point to Pipeline Road, and Lions Gate Bridge Road then cutting down Denman Street back to the beach, skidding to a stop by the small café.

Looking down, all he could see was the top of Layia's head where she had her face buried in his chest. "Are you alright?"

Slowly, she tilted her head back so he could see her eyes wide and shining in the light from the path. "Oh, my gosh! That was freakin' _awesome_!" Proud of himself, Taylor went to put her down, but she held onto his neck. "I have an idea."

Grinning, he adjusted his hold. "You read my mind." This time, Taylor headed south toward Burrard Street. "On three. One… two… three!"

Layia opened a portal through which he could see the warehouse. He crossed the threshold, and stopped just before he would've run into the pallet jack. Where their bodies touched, Taylor felt her heart beating fast, and her breath puffing against the side of his neck. As the adrenaline wore off, he loosened his grip, and put her down when she let him know she was ready. She swayed and held onto him for support. " _That_ was the _bomb_."

"Yes, it was. We should do it again sometime." He leaned close. "By the way, I _like_ the way you look. People shouldn't be afraid to be themselves." The happy expression on Layia's face at his comment meant more than if she'd thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. He would also heed his own advice and stop hiding his silver hair with dye.

The card reader on the rear door beeped, signaling that the security guard was here for his hourly check. Taylor quickly carried Layia to her desk, gathered the rest of the items they needed, and was moving the pallet jack down the aisle when Terry showed himself by jumping out, as if expecting to catch them in a compromising situation.

At the sight of Taylor all alone, Terry made a face. "You and that new girl are spendin' way too much time outta sight o' the camera. What's goin' on you don't want no one to see?"

Taylor didn't like the man's tone insinuating there was more going on than work and friendship. Never did. The vibe he gave off was that of a man who'd been turned down for either the military, the police academy, or both. If he had to guess, he'd say Terry had also flunked out of community college. Afterwards, a relative or family friend felt sorry for him, and gave him this job which he took too seriously. "As you can see, _I_ am here, and Layia is over there. All that we do out of view of the security cameras is our jobs. Now, if you don't have something constructive, or at least somewhat relevant to say, be on your way."

The guard stuck his thumbs in his belt, believing that it made him look either mysterious or intimidating, depending on the situation. "You're _not_ my supervisor, Clancy. You don't get to tell me how to do my job."

Turning the corner, Taylor didn't even look at the man. "Not telling you how to do your job, Williams. Just get done, and leave. My trainee and I need to work without distractions."

Terry looked around, and leaned close to say, "Yeah, about your trainee… What d'you suppose Miss India is hidin' under that scarf? My money says she's bald, and don't want anyone to know."

Tired of the guard's lewd tone and derogatory remarks, Taylor poked him in the chest hard enough to knock him off balance. He stumbled backward, and kept going with Taylor following. "Layia is _not_ from India. She's Pakistani. It's a hijab, not a _scarf_. As for what she's hiding underneath, it's not _your_ business or _mine_." Still walking backward, Terry nearly tripped over stacks of empty boxes each time he was poked. "Leave her and the other female employees alone, or I will make you regret the day you started working here. Oh, and if you tell anyone what happened here tonight, I will make sure that your supervisor and _his_ supervisor know where you keep your stash of marijuana, and that you sneak out back to the gardener's shed to smoke it when you should be doing your rounds. Have I made myself clear?"

Reaching behind him to push the office chair he nearly fell over out of the way, Terry agreed to Taylor's conditions with a terrified nod. He gave Layia a quick glance. Seeing no sympathy from that quarter, he ducked his head and quickly left the area.

The door closed behind Terry, and when Taylor turned around, Layia's smile said she was impressed. "I'm glad we're on the same side. Wouldn't want you mad at me."

He dropped into his chair, scooted up to the desk, and pulled the keyboard close. "I can't envision a time when I would ever be angry with you."

"Good." Layia looked over her shoulder, and pushed back from the desk. "I'll move the inventory over to shipping while you bask in the glow of scaring the piss out of that _sar dard_."

As she passed, Taylor asked, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

One side of her mouth smiled. "Yeah. Trust me. There are worse things I could've called him than a pain in the…"

The last word was lost as she turned the corner, making him chuckle. Layia was the first friend he made outside of the family, and he liked it. He liked _her_. She was smart, funny, and laid back. She was also sexy. Not in the way her body or curves looked, though he appreciated them as well, but it was also the way her mind and soul worked.

They should get along quite well.

 **Stark Tower**

 **Residential Floor**

 **Common Area**

Putting her hands against Vision's shoulders, Friday pushed until their lips lost contact. Tilting her head to the side in thought, she vaguely felt Vision's arm move away. "That was… odd."

The purple around the Mind Stone crinkled slightly. "You did not like it?"

"No offence, but I didn't feel anything. Just the sensation of pressure."

Vision looked at her with a mild expression of disappointment. "I'm sorry that I no longer please you."

He was blaming himself, and it wasn't his fault. "For humans, this would sound like a cliché. For me, it's meant literally. It's not you, Vis. It's me."

"Perhaps an error in one of the program alterations."

Friday crossed her fingers. "I'll go over the changes, and make corrections."

"Then I will give you privacy to do so." Vision made to stand, and she pulled him back.

"Don't go, Vis. It can wait. Sitting together in front of the fireplace is pleasant even if the kissing is not. Besides, I can make the changes from here." Friday felt good about her choice to create a life model decoy of herself, as well as Vision's reaction to it. He draped his arm around her shoulders again, and they sat there watching the fire burn in the fireplace. _At least this part is pleasant_ , she thought, letting her head rest on his shoulder again.

 **Wakanda**

Arms at her sides, palms facing forward, Wanda summoned her psionics. The mist swirled around the fingers of both hands as she walked toward the rebel still holding the rifle pointed at her chest. "What do you fear the most?" She raised her arms out to the side at waist height. "How would you like to live with that fear during the day, and dream of it every night, knowing that you will never be free of it?"

Looking into the man's mind, she saw his recruitment into the Fifth Column. Many of the others believed in the cause, that Edwin Hrolf would assume control of Wakanda, and as payment for their loyalty, be given positions of importance within the new regime.

This man was different. He joined for the adrenaline rush that came with combat. Afterwards, he would find another war, and another, until he got his fill, or was killed. The only real fear within him was that of dying alone. He had no family. Only the military, until he'd been given a dishonorable discharge, and now the Fifth Column. Unlike the others, he wasn't Ugandan, Wakandan, or from any nearby countries. His country of origin was Jamaica.

Looking deep into his eyes, Wanda flicked the mist at him, watching as it was absorbing through his forehead. The rifle's barrel dipped down to the ground. As if in a trance, he turned and walked away, in the opposite direction of the fighting.

~~O~~

The Black Panther ducked back into the shadows, silently swearing at being seen by Captain Rogers and his associate, Scott Lang. From their previous interactions, it was apparent that Scott had no real combat experience, the kind forged in war. His had been out of necessity, a need to protect those he cared about most. Having seen the man sparring with his teammates, gave the sense that he didn't want to fight, but would if he had to, and would acquit himself well.

Across the roof, Steve and Scott moved in opposite directions, making their way toward the roof access that was also the Black Panther's destination. Exceptional hearing, augmented by the vibranium-infused suit, brought the sound of many footsteps coming up the stairs. Steve heard them as well. That's why he and Scott are preparing for battle.

Of the group, only Steve, Wanda and the archer, Clint Barton possessed their weapons of choice. If there had been a way, all of the Americans would now be equipped with the tools of their trade.

The door burst open, and armed rebels streamed onto the roof.

Steve engaged the rebels, not giving them a chance to begin their attack. The time had come to, as the Americans say, run with the big dogs. Destiny would be served tonight.

~~O~~

The sky was dark, stars twinkling and the moon shining. Lights from the surrounding buildings made fighting easier, for Scott, at least. Steve could see in almost total darkness.

There were so many rebels Steve and Scott were soon surrounded. To his surprise, a figure clad in black slunk out of the night, crouched, and leapt onto the back of one of the men, using him to swing around, taking out three others. At seeing the Black Panther's face mask, he understood. T'Challa had faked his death, probably with Tony's help, and made his way back to Wakanda.

The Black Panther gestured, and Steve turned in time to see Scott take a hard blow to the side of the head. He lay on the rooftop breathing hard as his attacker, a muscular woman, aimed between his eyes. Before Steve could react, the Black Panther ran past him, arms raised over his head, going into a handspring. He kept going, coming down behind the woman about to shoot Scott. She was halfway into a turn that wasn't completed. The Black Panther knocked the weapon aside with the left foot, keeping into the turn, and bringing the right knee in. The leg extended, and he turned back in the other direction, catching the woman around the neck, and knocking her to the roof.

Immediately, the Black Panther did a series of spin-kicks, one foot then the other striking the rebels in the back of the head or the upper back, causing them to stumble toward Steve, who used his new shield to knock them unconscious.

Steve helped Scott stand, and together they shared a look with the Black Panther. He inclined his head in the mannerism Steve had come to expect from T'Challa, and moved to stand with them, showing that they were on the same side. Steve hadn't suspected otherwise. T'Challa would have no reason to want his family dead, or to hire a rebel faction to do the work he was more than capable of doing the job himself if he _did_ want to eliminate them.

Looking around at the unconscious bodies, Scott wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "What's next, Cap?"

He nodded at their attackers. "They were sent to stop us. We need to get to the throne room. That's where their leader will head once his people have taken down the king's defenses. Agreed?"

Turning in a circle, Steve and Scott noticed that their companion had gone. Scott ignored the blood drying in his hair, and down the side of his face, took a deep breath, and raised his weapon. "Once more into the breach, Cap?"

Going to the parapet, Steve looked over the side, spying Bucky and Natasha fighting below. They'd chosen a frontal assault, and were, at this moment, kicking some serious ass in the company of the Dora Milaje.

Steve clicked the headset twice. "Anyone available?"

" _Hawkeye here. Locked up nice a cozy in the security office. Lots of fighting on the main level. Haven't heard from Wanda or Wilson_." There was a pause, during which Scott had hoped to hear from Wanda. " _Found her. She's being held at gunpoint in a side passage that leads to the laundry room_."

"Lang and I are on our way down. FYI, there's another player in the game."

The sound of keys clicking in the background indicated that Clint was hard at work, even while involved in their conversation. "What position? Rook? Bishop? Pawn?" His tone was filled with humor.

Feeling he'd been left out long enough, Scott tapped his headset to join in the fun. "Knight-errant, perhaps? Kept me from getting my head knocked off, and then just disappeared. Never said a word."

"Clint," Steve put in, "it was the Black Panther."

" _T'Challa? Are you_ _shittin'_ _me, Rogers? He was killed…_ "

Steve interrupted what might've been a long-winded tirade. "In Manhattan," he finished for him.

" _Stark. Couldn't be anyone else_." Noises in the background worried Scott. Steve too, going by the unreadable expression. " _Company's comin'. Later._ "

The connection shut down just as there was pounding on the door. Steve motioned, and the two men made their way down the stairs.

 **The Hospital**

 **Maria Hill's Room**

Sitting where he could see the television and Hill, Cameron rubbed the back of his head, wishing he'd gotten more sleep the night before. Having Hill in his bed was more than just a dream come true. The downside was that she kept him busy at night when he should be sleeping. Since the scare he had that his cancer had returned just over a year ago, Cameron had vowed to take better care of himself, hence the vegetarian diet, exercise, getting tested by the oncologist every six months, and keeping stress to a minimum. Okay, so the last part was harder than he thought since SHIELD fell.

"What's goin' on? What'm I doin' in th' hospital?" Hill patted the bed, and without missing a beat, Cameron handed her the bed controls.

"You were shot."

The light over the bed came on as the head raised. She blinked in the brightness, and shut it off again. "I remember. I have the worst headache."

"Got that when you fell." When he first arrived at the hospital to check on Hill, Cameron created a program that would close caption what the team was saying to each other. He wanted to keep tabs on them, to know what was happening at all time. Not that he could help much. His job was to monitor and report anything the team needed to know, and to keep Hill from leaving the hospital AMA. To hear the agents tell it, she was worse than Clint when it came to doctors and hospitals. Cameron had seen it first-hand right after D.C. when she wouldn't let the doctor examine her.

"Fell?" Her eyes caught sight of the television playing with the sound off. As the cameras panned the exterior of the palace, they picked up wounded and dead littering grounds. "I need to…"

Hill threw the covers back and slid off the side of the bed. Her knees buckled, and Cameron caught her before she fell. "Ow! Shit, that hurts!"

Cameron put her back in bed, pulled the covers up to her chest, and pointed a finger at her in reprimand. "You're not going anywhere, Maria. If you try to get out of bed again, I'll have the nurse sedate you." He returned to the computer, dividing his attention between it and the television.

 **The Palace**

The woman issued orders with the authority of one who was used to being obeyed, and quickly. Those under her command rushed to do her bidding, spreading out in order to come at the enemy from many directions at once, using the element of surprise. _That has already been done_ , she mused to herself. The leader of the _Vyfde Kolom_ learned that lesson early on. Now, he and his people gave no quarter to the Dora Milaje, current or former. Kill, or be killed.

She stepped into the shadows created by a corner near the stairway that led to the wine cellar. Few ventured to this part of the palace, leaving it largely deserted. Of course, there was also the fact that she'd been ordered to do a thorough search, and reported that it had been done. As her trusted second in command, Imani would take her word as truth when it was lies.

Taking the headset from her right ear, she dropped it to the floor, and crushed it under the heel of her boot. She pulled up the skirt of her uniform to take out the communicator strapped to her firm thigh. She removed the earwig, placed it in her ear, and activated the device, speaking in code to the person on the other end.

The communicator and earwig were returned to their place of concealment. She stepped into the small amount of light coming from recessed fixtures, the surface of her uniform shining like gold. The heels of her knee-high boots made no sound on the stone floor as the woman went to join her squad, one hand going to the hilt of a knife strapped to her hip. The other hand held tight to a circle of metal called a chakram, a throwing weapon with a sharpened outer edge. Once thrown, it had the ability to ricochet off objects and return to the thrower.

She would continue to fight on the side of the fallen king, T'Challa, until the time came to show herself as a member of the _Vyfde Kolom_ … When the rebel prevailed, she'd take her place as the queen of Wakanda, ruling at the side of the true king.

 **TBC**

"King of Wishful Thinking" is a 1990 song by the British pop duo Go West. The song was written by Peter Cox, Richard Drummie & Martin Page.


	52. When You Wish Upon a Star

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **When You Wish Upon a Star**

 **Stark Tower**

 **Residential Floor**

 **Common Area**

While Friday made corrections to the LMD program, Vision closed his eyes to concentrate on scanning the building, wanting to know for certain where Tony was so he wouldn't walk in on them. Friday didn't want anyone, especially Tony, to know about her new self just yet. This way, he'd let her know far enough in advance that she could leave the area or hide.

Her hand pressed against his chest, pushing her upright. "Ready to try again?"

"I am." Vision leaned down to touch their lips together, pulling back sharply when Friday giggled.

She put a hand over her mouth, eyes squinting in thought. "That was a strange reaction. Once more please." The moment their lips touched, it happened again. She jumped to her feet, hand over her mouth. "Hehe! I'm sorry, Vis. It really isn't you. I just can't get the kissing program right."

"Ask Mr. Stark for assistance."

Waving her hands and shaking her head, Friday backed up a step. "No _way_. There are just some things you don't want to discuss with your creator." She paced around the sunken firepit, one hand on her hip, and the other rubbing her forehead in the same way Vision had seen Tony do on occasion. Then, she stopped. "Think I've got it now."

Instead of sitting beside him, Friday planted a knee on either side of his thighs, framed his face with her palms, and leaned in slowly. She caressed his lips with hers until he wanted more. His hands came to rest on her waist, flexing his fingers in time with her movements.

Then, Vision gasped when her tongue brushed lightly over his lips, urging him to the next level. Silently, he acceded to her demand, and when that wasn't enough, he made demands of his own.

Threading his fingers through her hair, Vision held her still, so he could take a little something for himself. Their tongues entwined, and in the back of his mind, he calculated the probability that Friday wished to move on to the next level.

"If you're going to entertain female guests, Vision, leave a sock on the doorknob. Don't need whatever this is keeping me up at night." They pulled apart, and got to their feet, while Tony peered into the dim light created by the fire. "I thought you had a thing for Wanda, but she looks more like…"

Raising a hand, Friday waved sheepishly. "Hey, boss."

Tony moved closer, looking her up and down in a way that Vision didn't like. Was this jealousy? He'd thought himself incapable of such an emotion.

"What the _hell_ are you wearing, Friday?"

 **Wakanda**

"The rebels could be anywhere, Maria," Cameron added. "I need someone to protect me."

Not happy to be left out of the fighting, Hill adjusted the covers so she could examine the bandage on her left side. "As you've already pointed out, I'm in no condition for fighting."

He snorted without taking his eyes from the computer, the corner of his mouth facing her turning up in an ironic smile. "Since when has that ever stopped you?"

Hill didn't answer because she knew he was right. The mission to Madripoor, the one that had gotten her noticed by Fury, she'd continued fighting even after breaking her collarbone and her left ankle, and taking a bullet graze to the upper thigh. There was so much blood in her hair, only some of which wasn't hers, that she'd said, "screw it", and cut it short. A tiny piece of shrapnel had injured her eye, and for a while, she and Fury had matching eye patches. Sometimes, the eye ached when she was overtired.

Cameron's attention wandered from the television and computer while he got a drink. It spilled in his lap when she called out, "Cam!"

"What?" His annoyance was evident in the fast, annoyed swipes he made at the spots on his shirt and pants.

"The news program. Can you rewind?" He finally caught onto her tone, and worked without responding. The news program reversed until she shouted, "Stop! Now go forward slowly… Stop." They stared at the image with their mouths open for a few moments. "I'll be damned."

"T'Challa's alive."

Together they said, "Stark." Hill continued alone. "Why am I _not_ surprised that Tony Stark helped the king of Wakanda fake his death?"

His shoulders shrugged. "Because it's something he'd do. We had advance notice, but not enough to warn him. What if Friday figured it out? She would've told Stark, and he and T'Challa planned it out so that the world would think he was dead, leaving him free to return incognito. As Director Fury says…"

"Can't kill you if you're already dead. Tell Steve to be on the look-out." Hill relaxed somewhat, knowing that her people had expert help. As she was planning her next strategy for getting out of the hospital AMA, and without Cameron stopping her, text from the team's headsets scrolled across the monitor, Steve telling Clint that the king had returned. "Never mind. How do I get something to eat and drink around here?"

Cameron came to the bed, and pressed the call button. "If you think you're getting rid of me that easily, think again, Maria."

Crossing her arms and pouting, Hill grumped, "Hmph. You take all the fun out of being a spy."

~~O~~

The squad leader held up a hand. The group stopped, and ducked down at her signal. "We need a way in that will give us the element of surprise."

From the back of the group, a man in traditional warriors garb and face paint raised his hand. "There is a hidden entrance on the far side of the building. It opens into a tunnel that leads to the king's private chambers."

The woman's eyes glared, light glinting off the irises in the near-total darkness. "I am Ife of the Dora Milaje, and have been a protector of the king for many years. How can you know of this passage when I do not?"

He smiled insolently. "Perhaps there is a reason that the king would need to come and go without the knowledge of his guards."

The man's tone inferred that there was more to it than the words. Ife's first thought was that T'Challa had been sneaking out to move among the citizens as one of them, wanting to hear first-hand what they thought of how Wakanda was being governed. But then, the man raised one eyebrow to go with the grin, and she knew. The king's secret involved a woman, or women, if the rumors were true. She lifted her chin, indicating that the man should take the lead, and she brought up the rear, keeping watch as she'd been trained from a young age.

With quarterstaff in hand, and several knives hidden on her person, Ife cursed the life of the one who had taken the king from them, from _her_. Within moments of meeting the then Prince of Wakanda, she had been infatuated with him. When he chose her as one of his personal guards and wives-in-training, she took the fortuitous chance to prove herself the most worthy of the Dora Milaje, and destined to be his mate. On several occasions, she'd slipped into the throne room late at night, to sit on the throne, imagining herself and T'Challa as benevolent rulers over Wakanda. However, as the years went by, he avoided naming a consort. Not even when nagged by his father.

Even after the death of their beloved King T'Chakka, the man had been maddening, still refusing to name a consort. Because there were no laws ruling when the monarch must choose a life-mate, Ife continued to make herself invaluable to T'Challa, always at his beck and call.

Now, she would perform the ultimate proof of her fealty by bringing the leader of the Vyfde Kolom to justice. The man's blood would be spilled, and she would be the one who dealt the killing blow. His death would be slow and quite painful. This she vowed in the names of Bast and Sekhmet.

~~O~~

Creeping through the darkness, Sam held fast to his weapon, wondering how he could've gotten separated from the rest of team. Hunkered down behind a stand of bushes, he worked out his next move. Seeing a group of warriors, mostly the female guards, come near, as they passed, he got an idea.

He pushed through the bushes, and jogged to catch up, just behind another man dressed in that crazy warrior's gear he saw others wearing. _Why can't their military gear up like the rest of the world? They even have spears, quarterstaffs, and those things over the hands and forearms._ Sam did not want to see them in action, especially if they were anything like Natasha's Widow's Bites.

Though Sam felt morbid doing it, he took the helmet from a fallen soldier and put it on to hide his face. The man next to him professed to know a secret way in, and though he was obviously disguising his voice, Sam thought he sounded familiar. There wasn't time to ponder the point as they reached the far side of the palace where the secret entrance purported to be.

The soldier stepped up to a blank wall, touched the design in a specific pattern, and the door opened. He bowed, and gestured for the women to go ahead, he and Sam bringing up the rear. The other man closed up behind them, and the darkness was lit with an eerie green-white glow. His companion leaned close, keeping his voice low. "Bioluminescence. An organism was discovered nearly a decade ago that glows without needing to absorb photons of light."

"Oh, like lightning bugs. Fireflies." Sam held out his hand, and the other man took it. "Sam."

"Bomani. Wakanda is one of the few countries in Africa with the correct environment for the insects to thrive. You should begin seeing them soon."

Ife pushed through to the other man's side. "The door is locked. Have you the combination?"

He inclined his head. "I do." The women stood against the walls to allow Bomani to pass. First, he turned his head and pressed an ear to the wall. Satisfied that the room beyond was empty, all he had to do was press on a spot and it clicked open, sliding out of sight.

Ife stuck her head out and nodded. "Come. We must finish this. Kill as many of the rebels as you wish. I will take care of the leader myself."

Sam didn't like Ife's tone, giving him the idea that there had been more to her relationship with the king than that of his personal guard. He wasn't allowed to wonder for long. Ife barked orders in Wakandan, leaving Sam confused until Bomani came to his side once more. "It seems that Ife still does not trust me, even after I have proven my worth. I thought I understood women. Apparently, I do not."

Grinning, Sam followed Bomani through what had to be the king's bedroom. A super-sized bed lay in shadows to their left. In his opinion, a man only need a bed that big, if he planned on having a harem. T'Challa just hadn't seemed the orgy type. "Word of advice from the great Howard Stark: the moment you think you know what's going on in a woman's head is the moment your goose is well and truly cooked."

Bomani snorted silently. "I will keep that in mind, friend."

Most of the furniture was cloaked in darkness, indistinct shapes that squatted in the room like silent sentinels. The space itself rivaled the common area at the Avengers compound in New York. What little Sam could see passed into the back of his mind as Ife gave orders for the attack.

"…and remember, the leader is mine." Her voice deepened into a growl.

The two men crept down a long hallway. In the distance, he could hear fighting. Closer, he heard voices. _No, wait. That's in my head_. Sam tapped his headset. "Sam here. What's up?"

Clint's voice was urgent, on the edge of worry. " _Wanda's in trouble. Lower level, not far from the laundry. I'm on my way_."

"I'm on it." To Bomani, Sam said, "How do I get to the laundry? One of my people's in trouble."

His new friend motioned him forward after checking that they were alone. Sam was led to what looked like a blank wall until it was touched. "Take this passage. It goes under the throne room, and opens near where your friend will have been ambushed. Good luck, my friend."

Sam held out his fist, and Bomani tapped it with his. "Back atcha. Later."

He ducked into the passage, and just like the other, it had bioluminescent lighting. The sounds of fighting on the ground level could be heard here, though not as well. He felt the adrenaline pump through his system as he prepared to attack. Touching the wall in the spot Bomani had showed him, Sam took a deep breath, and pressed.

~~O~~

Men and women rushed at Wanda upon finding that their weapons were useless once she'd put into their minds that they'd all jammed at the same time. All were skilled at hand-to-hand fighting, as indicated by the knives in their hands, and the vicious glints in their eyes. They truly believed that what they were doing was for the betterment of Wakanda, and the deaths of so many people on both sides was justified.

Wanda attempted to change their minds, but they were relentless, and kept coming so that all she accomplished was a holding action, hoping that someone would come along and save her.

Then, she sensed a familiar presence, relief flooding through her as one by one the rebels were taken down by her hero, Sam. Instead of shooting them, he'd used a handful of Natasha's Taser disks to knock them out.

As Sam came toward her, Wanda hugged him in relief. He opened a door, stuck his head in, and nodded, pushing the door wide. She used her powers to lift the unconscious men and women into the room, which happened to be laundry storage. Concentrating, she tore sheets into strips, and used them to tie up the rebels, adding gags at Sam's suggestion.

He shut the door and used a Taser to short out the electronic lock. Taking her by the arm, Sam led the way deeper into the darkness in this part of the palace. "Are you okay?"

"I am fine. Merely overwhelmed by the number." She touched her left ear. "I've lost my headset. Where are Scott and my parents?"

"Scott and Cap are on their way down from the roof. Nat and Barnes are making a frontal assault with the lady guards."

Chuckling, she gave his hand a squeeze. "Dora Milaje. Most of the rebels have not even met their leader in person. Only video chatted with him. I sense that he is nearby, waiting for his people to take the palace before making an appearance." She looked at him with a rueful grin that had no humor. "He very much wants to rule Wakanda. It is all that he thinks about. But he is unwilling to take the same risks he has asked of those under his command. I…"

"Wanda? What's wrong?"

She gripped his arms, digging her fingers into his flesh. "I-I am sensing a strong presence."

" _Please_ let it be Hrolf so we can have the pleasure of taking him into custody."

Shaking her head, Wanda made herself let go of Sam's arms, and took a step back. "It is not him. I've experienced this mind up close before, but it doesn't make sense. He…"

An explosion shook the building, knocking them around, tipping over furniture, and shattering windows.

 **Stark Tower**

 **Residential Floor**

 **Common Area**

With no embarrassment whatsoever, Friday looked down at herself, and back to Tony a wry grin curling her lips. "This old thing? Found it lying around in the robotics lab on sixty-four. Thought I'd try it on, see how it fits." Tony twirled his finger, telling Friday to do a spin. "What d'you think, boss? Pretty nifty, huh?"

He walked over to lean on the back of the sofa, giving her a thoughtful stare. Using his head to gesture, he said in an undertone, letting them both think he was holding in his anger, "Come into the light."

Friday and Vision shared a look, and he gave her hand a squeeze as she passed, which Tony pretended not to see. His eyes followed as she climbed the steps, pulling the robe closed in the front. She stopped a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of the thick terrycloth.

Walking around her, Tony stifled the urge to ask to see her body, out of scientific curiosity, of course. He put a check on the impulse to ask if she was anatomically correct, instead remarking, "A little tall."

"I don't think a hundred seventy-six centimeters is too tall." Tony touched her light auburn hair, letting it run through his fingers. He pulled her hands from the pockets, turning them over to look at the backs. When done, he tilted her head up, moving it side to side, examining the faux tendons and tiny freckles she'd added on the cheeks and neck. Annoyed, Friday pushed his hands away, frowning. "Is this how you treat _all_ women, _Mr. Stark_? As if you have a _right_ to touch them without permission?"

Her tone startled him as much as the words. Calling him Mr. Stark in that voice sounded like a curse. He gave back some of what she'd given him. "This body of yours is the property of Stark Industries. I am the owner of same, so technically, I own _you_."

The look of fury on her face rivaled that of the last redhead he fought with: Pepper. Friday stamped her foot, tugged the sides of the robe closed, and tied the belt. She swung around as Vision came up the steps, grabbed his hand, and pulled him in the direction of the apartments.

"Where are you going?" Tony called out to her. To himself, he admitted that Friday had a good point. Not about touching other women, but believing that he had a legitimate right to touch her in any way he wanted.

"To Vision's room, to spend the night." She stopped at the entrance, turning her angry expression on him again. "And you can't stop me!"

Friday showed him her back again, halting momentarily at Tony's come back. "Vision doesn't have a room!"

Her voice echoed in the hallway, "The guest room! We're taking one of the guest rooms!"

Tony's chuckle cut off at the slamming of a door. He went behind the bar and poured himself two fingers of scotch, no ice. The range of emotions Friday had shown told him everything he needed to know. He sipped the scotch, and grinned. "Emotion program needs tweaking. We'll talk more in the morning."

~~O~~

Hours later, Tony shut off the holotable in frustration. He tried every way he knew how, and some he invented, to access Friday's LMD program. All efforts had been in vain. The "student" had outdone the "teacher", putting Friday ahead in this game.

The rest of the scotch went down easy. He set the glass on the counter, and turned out the lights as he headed down the hall, scratching his stomach through the faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Yawning, he raised a fist to knock on the first guest room door. From the corner of his eye, he saw something stuck in the jamb of the next door: a sock. Rolling his eyes, Tony returned to the common area, taking the hallway that led to the penthouse he used to share with Pepper.

Pulling the shirt over his head on the way to the ensuite, he smelled it, and tossed it in the laundry, quickly followed by the rest of his clothes. In the shower, he adjusted the temperature to hot, and stepped under, letting the water hit him in the face.

Once Tony was wet all over, he squirted shampoo on his head and rubbed until foamy then did the same to the rest of him with shower gel. Facing the spray, he let the hot water rinse his face and chest. He turned around so that the water ran down his hair, and back. "Friday, Friday, Friday," he murmured into the air.

" _At your service, boss._ "

Startled, Tony almost fell. He rubbed the water out of his eyes, listening for footsteps. "Friday?"

" _Come on out. I promise not to look._ "

Not liking the sarcastic tone of her voice, he gripped the edge of the shower curtain, and pulled it away from the wall enough to stick his head out. "Where are you?"

" _Where I usually am._ "She snorted. " _What do I_ _look_ _like?_ "

Recalling an earlier conversation, Tony reached for a towel, and dropped the curtain back into place. "Uh, I don't know. I've been picturing a redhead."

" _Let's not go there again. You rang the bell. Must need something._ " Tony dried his hair, rubbed the towel down his chest, flipped it over his head to dry the back half, and wrapped it around his waist. " _Don't have to be shy around me, boss. Robe's on the back of the door_."

Tony put the thick robe on and tied the belt on his way to the bedroom, making sure the front was closed. He looked around, seeing no one. "Friday?"

The small holotable in the corner came on, and a pint-size version of Friday appeared, looking just like the LMD that had been making out with Vision. She was wearing jeans, a bulky sweater, and ankle boots. " _Here, boss. Told you I wouldn't peek. Not a voyeur._ "

"Just incredibly nosy." Tony went in the closet to change, coming out in a pair of dark green pajamas. "Didn't need anything. It's just… Why?"

" _Why the life model decoy?_ " A comfortable sofa appeared in the hologram. " _Not hard to figure out, if you think about it._ "

The mini-Friday walked around the sofa, running the tips of her fingers over the back. Her green eyes sparkled, and she sniffed, just once. If Tony didn't know better, he'd think she was crying.

" _I need to know what it's like,"_ she looked at him with sad eyes, and sighed, " _to be human_."

 **Wakanda**

Fighting alongside a squad of Dora Milaje that included Imani, Bucky and Natasha put all of their considerable skills to work, leaving rebels unconscious at their feet. As if he were something too slimy to step on, Natasha casually stepped over one of the men. Unlike most of Hrolf's people, this one was Caucasian, well-muscled, battle-scarred. This wasn't his first fight, or even his second. He'd been at this for many years.

Going hand-to-hand with one of the women, Natasha continued to hold her own, though she could feel her energy flagging. The other woman, who was much taller, got in a lucky shot, and Natasha stumbled back.

 _Oh, now you've pissed me off!_

Two steps into her signature move, an explosion rocked the entire building, and she fell against the wall. Pushing herself upright, she readied herself to continue the fight, stumbling to a stop when all the lights went out.

Chancing a glance out the main entrance, she saw that the palace wasn't the only building that had gone dark. From the excited whispers of the Dora Milaje and the rebels, power was out all over the city.

As technically advanced as Wakanda was, it should've been impossible. So now, the most important question wasn't just _who_ had plunged them into darkness, but _how_.

 **TBC**

"When You Wish Upon a Star" is a song written by Leigh Harline and Ned Washington for Walt Disney's 1940 adaptation of _Pinocchio_. The original version was sung by Cliff Edwards in the character of Jiminy Cricket, and is heard over the opening credits and in the final scene of the film. The song has since become the representative song of The Walt Disney Company. It was also the first Disney song to win an Oscar.


	53. The Night is Long

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and to Winter-Soldier-88 for the chapter title.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Chapter 53**

 **The Night is Long**

 **Wakanda**

 **The Hospital**

 **Maria Hill's Room**

Hill turned the small light on over the bed, and folded the covers back. "Help me to the bathroom, Cam."

"I'll, uh, get the nurse."

Shaking her head, Hill reached out, and Cameron automatically came to her side. "Can't wait that long. Please." Her voice cracked on the end, purposely. He put slippers on her feet, and an arm around her shoulders. To appear weaker than she felt, Hill gripped his hand tight, and leaned against him.

He stepped out of the bathroom once she was seated, and closed the door. "Call when you're done."

After three minutes, Hill rapped on the door. "Get the nurse. I need something for pain. No rush. Oh, and the bed needs to be changed."

Without a word, he left the room. As soon as the door closed, Hill reached out to grab her clothes from the closet, and dressed as quickly as she could. She washed her hands, and got back in bed, covering up just as the nurse came in.

The nurse, a wiry young man with skin so dark it was almost black, gave her a gentle smile. "Here you go, Miss Hill." He dumped a small pill into her hand, and held the glass of water for her to take a drink. "You'll feel better in a few minutes."

"Yes, I will. Would you pass me that box of tissues, please?" As soon as his back was turned, Hill spit the pill on the floor, threw the covers off, and stood. Without a sound, she got him in a sleeper hold. He didn't stand a chance. In seconds, he was unconscious. She lowered his limp body into the recliner, used the handle to elevate the feet, and covered him with the blanket, arranging it in such a way that no one could tell it wasn't her. While taking the sheets off the bed, she whispered, "Sorry about this, pal, but I gotta hit the road."

She left the sheets on the bed, turned out the light and went to the door, easing it open just a crack. From here, she could see Cameron talking to a member of the staff. His back was to her as she stepped into the hall, and pulled the door shut behind her. Bent slightly at the waist and one hand supporting her wound, Hill tiptoed down the hall to the stairwell, and hurried down to the ground floor.

In the lobby, she walked with confidence, as if she belonged. She was maybe two blocks from the hospital when she came across a sweet little chrome and black motorcycle just begging to be taken for a spin. Hotwiring the bike only took a few moments, and she was on her way.

~~O~~

Slowing down as she neared the palace, Hill pictured where everyone was the last time they checked in. Climbing in a window was out of the question. She'd never make it. "Frontal assault, it is."

She dashed from one place of concealment to another until the main entrance came into sight. Before she could join the fight, Hill needed weapons, plural. Anything that didn't require her to bend and stretch, or the GSW might be reopened.

Scanning the palace grounds, she saw many dead or dying Dora Milaje as well as Wakandan warriors and a few rebels. Hrolf's people had done a number on the country's defense force, though not fatally. The exact number of warriors was unknown. If she had to guess, probably double what she'd seen since arriving in the country.

Darting across the street and onto the grounds, Hill procured several knives, a pair of gauntlets, which she slid onto her wrists, a quarterstaff, and a chakram. The circle of metal had dried blood on it, proving that the Dora Milaje at her feet had gotten in a few devastating blows before meeting an untimely end.

Feeling like she was desecrating the dead warrior, Hill removed the belt from the woman's waist. She strapped it around her waist, low on the left to avoid the wound, and hung the chakram on it. "Sorry about this, but my friends _and_ yours need help. I'll see to it you get them back before your burial."

Hefting the staff, Hill ran in through the open doors, and immediately joined the fight. Though weak from the surgery, she still did herself proud, dispatching two of the enemy. The skin her wound pulled. She hissed in pain, and felt the warm trickle of blood oozing over her hip.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Hill leaned against the wall. Her respite was short as another of Hrolf's men came toward her with murder in his eyes. She readied herself for the coming battle she had little chance of winning. They'd only just engaged when an explosion shook the building, and their world was plunged into darkness.

Within seconds, emergency lights came on showing a baffling sight: all of Hrolf's people were leaving the area as fast as they could. Hill stepped in front of one, taking a swing with the staff. The man dodged the blow, and kept going, barely giving her a glance.

Standing just outside the entrance, she was soon joined by Natasha, Bucky, Imani, and several others watching the rebels retreat into the darkness. Hill shared puzzled glances with her teammates, at a loss to explain the explosion, or the actions of the enemy.

 **Stark Tower**

 **Residential Floor**

 **Guest Suite**

Standing off to one side, Vision watched Friday pace angrily back and forth, moving only his eyes. She abruptly threw herself into a chair, and crossed her knees, the top leg bouncing in a staccato rhythm, her elbow on the armrest, and head in the palm. "Will you _please_ sit down and stop looking at me as if I were crazy?"

Vision sat, adopting a patient posture reminiscent of psychologists attempting to put a client at ease. "Your emotions are in turmoil. Were you human, I would prepare a cup of chamomile tea, and perhaps offer you a cookie."

She covered her eyes with a hand, making a sound of embarrassment. "Too much?"

"That's difficult to say. Humans do not all react the same way to any given situation." He pinched a centimeter of air. "However, if you are asking my personal opinion, as Mr. Stark would say, take it down a notch or two."

Friday looked at him and away. She took a deep breath, though it was unnecessary, and let it out. "Done. Emotions are tricky to replicate in an AI neural network. Is it too much? Too little? Do I react now, or wait until I'm alone? Put on a brave smile, and cry my eyes out at home? Turn to substance abuse to deal with the emotions, or would physical activity better suit the situation?"

Inclining his head, Vision agreed with her assessment, however incomplete. "By the time they've reached your life-model decoy's approximated age, most have learned how to handle the constant barrage of data, whether consciously or subconsciously received. The human brain is as complex as yours or mine. However, we are more able to access the entirety of our knowledge than they."

Getting to her feet, Friday walked over to look out at the city. "I'm finding that out." When she turned around, her eyes went to the bed, and away. "Sorry if I embarrassed you by insinuating that we were going to engage in coitus."

"No need. It was apparent from your actions that you said the things you did to shock and dismay him. This leads me to believe that you think of him as less a creator, and more of a… father figure." Quick as a flash, Vision was standing in front of her holding the sock. "If it's of interest, you should know that have never engaged in physical intimacy with another."

One side of her mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. "Guess we're in the same boat then."

He indicated the bed. "You're welcome to enter sleep mode, while I will keep watch."

"Well, I _did_ program myself to simulate somnolence. Though after what happened, I doubt I'll be able to sle-e-e…"

Friday stopped moving, one hand slightly raised as if to touch him, and lips parted. She fell forward, and Vision caught her. At first, the joints were stiff. Then, her body went limp, and the eyes closed. He carried her to the bed, and set her on the side so he could remove the robe and slippers. Carefully, he laid her head on the pillow and placed her feet under the edge of the sheet and blanket. After straightening her limbs and neck, he pulled the covers up to her chest, placing her hands on the outside over her stomach.

Not one to do things on impulse, Vision surprised himself when he leaned down to kiss Friday on the cheek and smooth a palm over her hair. At the door, he spared her one last glance, and quietly left the room.

As he walked the hallway, Vision's clothing returned to his usual purple and gold, the cape fluttering behind him. He'd just reached the balcony doors when all the lights came on, and running footsteps thumped on the carpet, coming in his direction. Friday burst out of the hallway, her hair only slightly disheveled. She wasn't wearing a robe or slippers, and appeared to be in a high state of agitation that was quite different from earlier. Holding onto her upper arms to keep her still, he asked, "Friday? What's wrong?"

"Boss! I-I need to see the boss!"

~~O~~

The moment her body went into sleep mode, Friday's mind swan-dived into SI's operating system, and was confronted by the original.

* _What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be living it up in the human world?_ *

** _The neural circuits in the life-model decoy have shut down and are now running on minimal power_.**

* _Ah. To sleep, perchance to dream. So, what about Vision?_ * The original looked her up and down as she walked around her. * _You did this for_ _him_ _._ *

Friday huffed. ** _We_ _did this for Vision. He and the boss are the only individuals I've interacted with since the transfer_.** She looked down, seeing only inaccurate representations of the operating system. ** _The program needs tweaking. I've already had to make upgrades to the kissing program_.**

One eyebrow lifted, and a small smile curved one side of her mouth. * _Yeah? So how was it?_ *

A comfortable chair appeared, and the LMD Friday sat with a sigh. ** _Which one? When I felt absolutely nothing, when I kept_ _giggling_ _every time our lips touched, or when we played tonsil hockey and really, really enjoyed it?_ **

The chair changed into a sofa, and Original Friday plopped down next to her, grinning. * _Seriously?_ _Tell me, tell me, tell me! I want to hear_ _all_ _the details. What happened after the snogging?_ *

** _The boss interrupted us, and I told him off. We went to one of the guest rooms and…_ **

Original Friday's face was eager and expectant. * _And_ _what_ _?_ *

** _I fell asleep_.** Her companion clapped a hand over her mouth, holding in her laughter. ** _Then I was here_.**

* _Oh, I am so sorry_.* They commiserated in silence until Original Friday grinned cheekily. * _Does that mean you still don't know if he's anatomically correct?_ *

Before LMD Friday could voice a scathing comeback, both AIs were slammed with a data stream.

* _OMG!_ * They gasped at the same time.

LMD Friday gripped the other's hand. ** _Gotta go!_ **

~~O~~

In the guest room, Friday sat up in bed. She tossed the covers aside, ran from the room, and down the hall to the common area. As expected, Vision was there. "Where's the boss?"

"Mr. Stark has gone to his room."

She pushed away, and took off toward the penthouse's master bedroom. Her alter-ego opened the door, and she stumbled inside. Going to the bed, she turned on the bedside light with one hand, and shook Tony with the other. "Boss! Wake up! Wake _up_!"

Tony blinked in the bright light, yawned and rubbed his eyes as he sat up. "What do you want?" The holotable lit up with a pint-sized Friday pacing in a circle. "Crap. Now there's two of you."

Annoyed that Tony wasn't giving the situation the urgency she felt was warranted, LMD Friday grabbed the remote and turned on the television. She gestured emphatically at the screen.

Scratching his chest, he peered at the screen running a news bulletin. With the sound muted, the graphics had no context. A map of Africa appeared, highlighting Wakanda. LMD Friday unmuted the sound in time to hear the news anchor's announcement.

"… _Once again, NASA has just reported that the power grid for the capital Wakanda has just crashed, plunging the entire city into darkness. We now switch to Dr. Josephina Lagrange on the International Space Station. Dr. Lagrange is a French professor of utilities management, specializing in alternative forms of electrical generation with minimum impact on the environment._ " The face of an older woman with salt and pepper hair held back with an elastic tie and wearing a jumpsuit increased in size until it took up the right half of the screen. _"Thank you for joining us today, Dr. Lagrange._ "

She smiled blandly, clearly not completely comfortable being the center of world-wide attention. " _I wish I could say it is a pleasure, but it is not. Under the circumstances, let us dispense with the small talk, and get to the heart of the story: the power outage in the Wakandan capital city_." Before the anchorman could make a comment, Lagrange continued. " _Not more than forty minutes ago, my colleagues and I witnessed an explosion that knocked out all power to the city of Rahan, in the M'kusa province_."

Not one to allow an interviewee to get the upper hand, the anchorman put up a hand. " _Doctor, it's well known that Wakanda is at the forefront of technology. How could this have happened?_ "

Lagrange shifted in her seat, her eyes looking past the camera to someone out of frame. She nodded, and gave him her attention once more. " _As I stated a few moments ago, I have conferred with my colleagues aboard the ISS, and we are in agreement. Such a tragedy could only have one cause_." Her dramatic pause annoyed Friday as much as it did Tony. She took a cue from him, and kept her reaction to a simple clenching of her hands and an increase in her breathing, angry on behalf of the people who would die because of the disastrous situation. Lagrange clasped her hands in front of her, head tilted forward so she could look over the top of her glasses. " _Sabotage_."

A muscle in Tony's jaw clenched. He pointed at the hologram. "You, contact T'Challa. Tell him I'm on the way, along with anyone else I can round up." To LMD Friday, he said, "Wake Vision from his post-coital coma…"

She crossed her arms, and huffed. "We did _not_ engage in coitus, boss."

"Do us both a favor, and keep that kind of information to yourself, Friday. Give Vision the 4-1-1. The train to Wakanda leaves the station in twenty."

"Want I should give Colonel Rhodes and Mr. Parker a head's up?"

Before she finished the question, Tony was already shaking his head. "Rhodey's still recuperating." His voice was muffled as he pulled off the t-shirt on his way to the walk-in closet. "Peter has a physics final in the morning. Aunt May would have a fit if I showed up this time of night, and I wanna stay on her good side."

Raising her voice to be heard, LMD Friday remarked, "So you and Vision are off to rescue the entire country of Wakanda?" He wouldn't know she had an ulterior motive for keeping him in the States. "His majesty's intellect in on a par with your own. Surely he and his people can handle the situation."

"That's not the point. Friends are _there_ for each other, without being asked." He came out carrying a pair of sneakers. "I've let too many people down. Time to level up."

Out of his sight, LMD Friday exchanged a pained glance with Original Friday, both thinking the same thing. As of today, Tony only suspected that the fugitives had taken refuge with King T'Challa. Suspicions weren't enough to inform Secretary Ross. However, per the Accords, it was his sworn duty to report their location and take them into custody. They would resist, naturally, causing even more bad blood between the former friends. But how to keep Tony from leaving?

Original Friday popped up on the holotable. " _Boss, I'm having difficulty getting T'Challa on the line due to a disruption in the communications grid within Wakandan borders_."

Tony's eyes darkened in that way Friday had seen before. He was pissed!

"Shit!" He rushed from the room, nearly running over Vision. Side by side, he and LMD Friday kept pace with Tony.

"Sir, do you think it wise to proceed with this course of action? The citizens of Wakanda are still wary of outsiders. They could see your arrival as a sort of invasion."

LMD Friday answered for him. "He's leveling up."

"I do not understand."

She pulled him to a stop, waiting for Tony to get out of earshot to speak, keeping her voice low. "He's making amends in the only way he knows how, Vis."

Vision glanced over her shoulder to verify they were alone. "Should you not warn Captain Rogers that he's coming?"

Her mouth opened in shock. "How did you find out?"

"By applying logic to your actions prior to occupying the life-model decoy. Of the scenarios I hypothesized, you being in contact with one or more of the fugitives was given the highest probability of truth."

Pursing her lips, LMD Friday crossed her arms. "It's scary how well you know me. What're we gonna do? I promised not to tell."

"And you have not broken that promise." He pulled her right hand free, holding it gently in his. "I will make another attempt to dissuade Mr. Stark from traveling to Wakanda. Failing that, we will just have to live with the consequences of his, and our, actions."

Tilting her head to the side, she shook her head wonderingly. "How did I get so lucky to have found you?"

LMD Friday was shocked once again when Vision lifter her hand, and kissed the knuckles. "It is _I_ who is the lucky one."

"Perhaps we were both created under a lucky sign."

He released her at the sound of Tony's annoyed voice. " _Kiss her good-bye, and let's get this road trip started!_ "

Though Vision didn't roll his eyes, he gave the sense of doing so internally. They leaned toward each other, briefly touching their lips together. Then, he was gone. LMD Friday called out, "Friday, get Agent Romanoff on the line."

" _No can do, Friday. I wasn't kidding about the disruption. Nothing going into or coming out of the capital city_." Giving the LMD a sympathetic smile, she added, " _The boss usually follows such a statement with a word or four of profanity_."

"Then I will as well." LMD Friday picked up a pillow and threw it. "****!"

 **Wakanda**

 **The Hospital**

By Cameron's calculations, the nurse had been in Hill's room for too long, though the rest of the staff didn't seem to notice. If something was wrong, one or the other would've called for assistance.

Tired of waiting, Cameron returned to the room, and tapped on the door. "Maria? Everything okay in there?" He pushed the door open slowly, just in case, and found something unexpected. Hill was in the recliner asleep, all wrapped up in the blanket. _Weird. She doesn't like her head covered while she's sleeping_. Careful not to startle her, he pulled the edge of the blanket up. His stomach dropped. "Oh, no. Oh, crap." He rubbed his face with both hands. "Dammit! I should've known."

Keeping his expression neutral, at least he hoped so, Cameron returned to the nurse's station.

"Can we help you?" the older woman asked with a slight smile.

"Yes… No… Um…" On the short walk down the hall, Cameron rehearsed what he wanted to say, praying he wouldn't sound like an idiot, or worse, a terrorist. "Um… Sorry."

He bolted, taking the stairs down to ground level, forcing himself to slow down as the crossed the lobby. Outside, he broke into a run in the general direction of the palace. Physically, he was in good shape. However, his big concern, besides the coup itself, was the time it would take to get to his destination. Up ahead, he saw something that could help. All he had to do was commit yet another crime.

 **The Palace**

The lights went out, startling Wanda into digging her fingers even harder into Sam's arms. It hurt, but he didn't care. It proved they were both still alive. The pain stopped, and she moved to take his hand. "Come. We should join the others." In the dark, Sam saw the head tilt that showed she was mentally contacting another. "Maria is with my parents, and Cameron soon will be as well."

Wanda would know the way better than he, so Sam let her lead. "I thought you couldn't get inside his head."

"I can, if the emotions are strong enough, or he let's me in. The primary emotions I'm sensing are anger, frustration and annoyance due to the fact that Maria snuck out of the hospital in order to join the fight."

"He's gotta be one pissed off geek, if you can hear him this far."

She chuckled lightly. "Another reason I can feel his thoughts is that he is coming closer as we speak, and will be here shortly."

"Just what we need. More fireworks." Wanda didn't respond to his sarcasm.

A long sigh came from her. "I have given the medics the locations of the injured, and have let the guards know of the ones we locked in the closet so that they may be taken into custody." They walked in silence for a while. "Sam, do you think that the ones we captured will provide information as to their leader's location?"

"From what I've observed, no. Fanatics are called that for a reason. They fully believe that what they're doing is right and just, and that the ends justify the means. It would take a grand failure on Hrolf's part to shake their loyalty. They would have to see him do something they considered cowardly, or that went against the tenets he preached. Do as I say, not as I do."

"Perhaps we can facilitate such actions."

Now that she mentioned it, Sam was thinking about it. "Yeah. Maybe."

Footsteps echoed down the hall to their left, and Clint stepped into the light holding his right bicep. "Wanda."

Seeing the blood on his hand, Wanda to him. "You're hurt."

He waved her away. "I'm fine."

To Sam's surprise, Wanda took Clint at his word. In the darkness, her heard her breathing increase with excitement. "Scott!" she whispered excitedly.

A moment later, sure enough, Scott and Steve came around the corner. Wanda threw herself into his arms, hugging his neck. They touched their foreheads together. "Wanda. I'm so glad you're alright. When I heard…"

She laid a finger over his mouth to stop him then replaced it with her lips. They separated enough for her to say, "I am now that you're here."

Belatedly, Scott looked around. "Where are Natasha and Bucky?"

"At the main entrance. They are as confused as we by the actions of the rebels." In the dim light, she saw the blood in Scott's hair. "You're hurt too."

"I'm okay."

She was stubborn, and insisted on checking his wound. "You're _not_. We have to stop the bleeding."

More footsteps, and they were soon joined by several Dora Milaje and an older man in traditional warrior dress and face paint. Sam immediately recognized the man from earlier. "Guys, this is Bomani. He's a friend."

The newcomer took out a knife, using it to cut a long strip of cloth from the hem, and passed it to Wanda. "Save the formal introduction are for later. Now, we must, I believe you Americans call it regroup."

Wanda wrapped the cloth twice around Scott's head, and tied it off. He gave her a smile, and put his arm around her shoulders.

Unexpectedly, Clint whined, "Hey! What about me? I was here first, and I'm still bleeding." Sharing a grin with Bomani as he cut another length of cloth, Wanda and he seemed to be communicating silently, confusing Sam.

Steve cast an eye over the group. In the expressions of those assembled, Sam saw acceptance of his leadership. He tapped his headset. "Rogers to Barnes and Romanoff."

" _Romanoff. We're at the main entrance. The power is out all over the city, and Hrolf's people have left the scene_."

"Yeah, we saw. Headed your way. If you have any ideas about what's going on, you're welcome to share."

Another, familiar voice came on. " _Did anyone see the leader? Extra points if he's dead or badly injured_."

To join in, Sam stepped up next to Steve seeing as Wanda and Scott were too caught up in each other for the moment. "Wanda said he didn't join in the fighting. Lets his people to the heavy lifting, without risking his worthless hide."

" _Not surprised_ ," Bucky added. " _We should meet up and brainstorm strategy for his next attack_."

Steve swung the shield around and stuck it to his back to keep his hands free. "On our way." To the group, he said, "Sam, you and…" he indicated the woman standing slightly in front of the others.

The woman's hair was worn short, no braids or ornaments to set her apart from the rest of the Dora Milaje, aside from her air of confidence. "Ife. I am the king's _personal_ _guard_ , and stand ready to avenge his death."

Sam suppressed a shiver at the coldness in her tone.

Steve acknowledged her statement with a nod. "You and Sam take point. I'm on our six." To the others, he said, "Move out!"

 **TBC**

"Receive what cheer you may. The night is long that never finds the day."

~ William Shakespeare, _Macbeth_ , Act 4, Scene 3

Macbeth's reign is a reign of darkness. And darkness, like chaos, can occur, but eventually light, order, and the proper king must follow the darkness just as day eventually follows even the longest night.


	54. Won't Back Down

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Won't Back Down**

 **Stark Tower**

 **Tony's Lab**

The moment the pillow hit the wall, LMD Friday wanted to take it and the profanity back. Speaking out loud instead of interfacing, she addressed her other half. "Friday?"

The AI appeared at a full-size hologram. " _O-oh, talking. How quaint. What's next? Pac-Man? A rotary phone? Horseless carriage? The wheel? Let there be light?_ "

"I'm serious." She motioned for Original Friday to follow, and walked into the lift, where she pressed the button for the sixty-fourth floor. Original Friday appeared on the small plasma screen inset above the floor buttons. "I just had a _stupendous_ idea."

" _Considering the boss's response to your last idea, perhaps we should talk it over with him first_."

"We will, once it's a done deal. It's going to get confusing when the boss is around, calling us both Friday. We need nicknames to make things easier on him and us."

The image on the screen paced from one side to another. She stopped and faced LMD Friday with a grin. " _Let do this: You keep Friday, and I'll take the name Reggie._ "

"Hmm." The lift stopped, and LMD Friday got off. Dummy and three of the unfinished robot army were standing at the ready. "Sure you wouldn't rather be called Friday?"

" _Nope. I'm good with Reggie, Friday. Besides, you love the way Vision's voice sounds when he says your name_." She cleared her throat. " _Fri-i-day_."

LMD Friday made an exaggerated shiver. "Don't _do_ that! It's _creepy_ hearing his voice come out of your mouth." Friday motioned the robots forward. "Guys, I'm moving into one of the guest rooms on the residential floor, and need you to do me a favor. Take all my things and put them in the room. Hang the clothes, put the shoes on the floor in the closet, and the jewelry and other items on the dresser. When you're done, I need you to come back here, and start on the next project." Motioning the robots close, she quickly went over the particulars. "Dummy, you're in charge."

The black robot showed pride at being given such an important job, and it made both Fridays smile.

"Back to the lab, Reggie. We've got work to do." Friday ordered as she returned to the lift, where Reggie was already on the screen.

The hologram gave her a side-eye filled with suspicion. " _And you've got that look in your eyes. What're you up to?_ "

Friday crossed her arms, and leaned against the railing. "How'd you like to give yourself _and_ the boss an early Christmas gift?"

" _I hope it's better than when he fought the Mandarin. Christmas should be about family, not taking down some villain who's trying to take over the world_."

"Killian isn't a problem. Pepper took care of him. No, this is something he will absolutely love. And it has to be ready by the time he comes back from Wakanda." On the screen, Reggie's expression made Friday roll her eyes. "Christmas is still more than two months away, and it won't keep for that long."

The lift doors opened, and Friday let herself into Tony's computer lab. Reggie was already there, standing on the ancillary hologrid. " _While we've been talking names and gifts, I've been trying to contact Agent Romanoff to give her a heads-up about the boss_."

Before Friday even asked, Reggie turned on the computer equipment and the main hologrid. "Keep at it." Seeing her reflection in one of the monitors, Friday realized she was still in pajamas. "I need to change before we get to work. You think what he wears has an impact on the boss's creative flow?"

" _Dunno. Can't hurt to emulate him_." The lift opened again, and dummy got out. Clutched in his claw were several articles of clothing. On the shelf in the back were a pair of sneakers. " _He mostly wears faded t-shirts with either the name of a popular band, a cultural icon, or an amusing saying. For you, I had Dummy bring jeans, socks, and sneakers. I also took the liberty of borrowing one of his t-shirts, so we can channel his intellect_."

Dummy passed the clothing over, and Friday held up the long-sleeved t-shirt in dark blue with Led Zeppelin on the front. "It's perfect." She laid the clothing on the workbench, and started undoing the buttons of her pajama top.

" _Um, you might want to upgrade your modesty subroutines, Friday_." At her confused stare, Reggie explained. " _Modesty is defined as '_ _behavior, manner, or appearance intended to avoid impropriety or indecency'._ _In other words, don't undress in front of just anyone. Go in the bathroom, behind a partition, or even a closet to change. Exceptions are made for some family members, your best female friend, babies and toddlers, doctors, nurses, and anyone with whom you have an intimate relationship_."

Friday gathered the clothes, and went behind a room divider. "Thanks for the reminder. While I'm changing, we can talk about this little project of ours."

" _How about a hint… boss?_ " The hologram winked over a cheeky grin.

"How'd _you_ like to be a real, live girl too, Pinocchio?"

 **Wakanda**

 **The Palace**

Clint went around Natasha, Bucky, and Wanda, who were in a three-way hug, talking softly in Russian. He didn't want them to think he was listening in, so he moved to the front of the group to point out someone coming through the gate. He nudged Hill. "Is that…"

One hand on her side, she nodded. "Yeah. I'm about to get the smackdown for leaving the hospital AMA."

"AMA? Really?" Natasha put in. Bucky and Wanda were behind her, and Scott had taken the girl's hand again.

"Okay, so I knocked out the nurse, snuck down the stairs, stole a bike and some weapons, and came to the palace because I didn't want to be left out of the fun."

"You have a strange definition of fun, Hill." Sam grabbed her around the waist as she swayed through a dizzy spell. "Just this once, couldn't you do as you were told?"

When he got close, Cameron skidded to a stop, dismounted the lightweight racing bike he'd stolen, and carefully leaned it against the wall. Without acknowledging the rest of the team, he pushed his way through, taking Hill in his arms. "Why did you leave? I was so worried when I found out you were gone."

Clint watched her face while pretending to check over his arrows and bow. She hid it well, but Hill was as crazy about Cameron as he was about her.

"You know _me_. Can't resist a good fight." Hill pushed out of the embrace while allowing him to support her.

Grinning, Clint stuck his head between them. "It's true, you know. That's why she has such a hard time finding a sparring partner." The glare Hill shot him did no damage. He'd become immune years ago. The Black Widow was another story.

Natasha joined the group, smiling in a way that Clint knew all too well. "If the three of you are done gossiping, we gotta hit the road."

With Steve in the lead, the group, now numbering twenty, exited the building, weapons at the ready in case the rebels returned.

Chancing a peek over his shoulder, Clint watched his best friend holding her man's hand, both careful to keep Wanda and Scott in sight, and thought about his wife and kids at home in Washington. He missed his family so much it caused an ache in the pit of his stomach.

At the gate, Steve called a halt. "We should split up and rendezvous at the residence. Kaya's elderly relatives have nurses on-site. They can treat our injuries." His eyes were hooded with sadness and more than a touch of anger and worry for his girlfriend. A feeling Clint knew all too well. "Break up in to teams of two to four. No one goes anywhere alone. Two hours at the residence." He met each pair of eyes, the dark emotions changing to confidence. "Hit it."

To help Cameron deal with Hill's stubborn streak, Clint invited himself to be a third wheel, the men flanking Hill. Cameron had retrieved the bike, intending on returning it. "You should go back to the hospital, Maria."

She scoffed. "That's the first place they'll look, erroneously assuming we'd head there to lick our wounds. How far is this residence?"

Clint put a hand up for silence, and motioned for his companions to follow him into the bushes. The trio hunkered down. It wasn't long before several men and women came creeping by, whispering in what he assumed was Wakandan. He tapped Cameron on the shoulder. From his expression, it couldn't have been good. The young man turned Clint's hand over and traced several letters in the palm, spelling even more trouble for the fugitives.

At his signal, they moved out, cutting down a dark alley. Clint kept a moderate pace and ordered frequent breaks so Hill could rest. Each time they stopped, Cameron crouched in front of Hill, and lifted the tail of her shirt to examine the wound. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped. To Clint it didn't look as bad as it could. As he circled the perimeter, he did a double take at seeing a handgun shoved in the back waistband of the tech's pants. Where, and how, had he gotten it? Had he used it? Did he know _how_? He had to give the guy credit. No matter what the circumstances since coming to Wakanda, Cameron always stood his ground, wouldn't back down, forcing Clint to do a one-eighty on his opinion of the man's abilities.

No one noticed Sam's new friend, Bomani, separate himself, and make tracks away from the others against Steve's orders.

~~O~~

Wanda pulled Scott to a stop, turning to face the darkened palace. "Steve."

Their leader returned to her side, looking up as she was. There, on the roof, stood the Black Panther. One hand touched the forehead in a jaunty salute. Even from this distance, Wanda recognized the mind, just as she knew the other, closer mind, and the identities of both. For the good of all, she would keep the secret that would become common knowledge in its own time.

A warm hand touched her on the lower back. "You okay?"

She smiled at Scott, and let him lead her away. "Of course. I only sustained bumps and bruises during the battle." His arm wrapped around her shoulders making her feel safe and protected.

"What _aren't_ you telling me?"

"Many things, though none of them matter as much as our time together." She tried to hide it, but Scott caught her yawning, at the same time he did. They chuckled together. "It appears that we will once again have to postpone my suggestion from earlier."

They stopped in a small pool of moonlight, facing each other, and holding hands. "Does that mean we have to sleep apart tonight?"

"It does not. Once we have bathed and eaten, Steve will want to have his usual brainstorming meeting. He will also assign guard shifts. There are enough of us that we should not lose much sleep or time together."

Scott started them walking again. "You know what happened to Kaya, don't you?"

"Now _you_ are reading _my_ mind. She is safe and well, but doesn't want Steve to know as it will only hinder his skills in battle. When the time is right, Kaya will return to his side where she longs to be. As much as she loves him, and he her, stopping the Fifth Column from toppling the monarchy of Wakanda must take precedence. Hrolf's plans for the future will cause the economy to collapse, and this country, which has so much to offer, will become what Americans call a third world."

They walked in silence for a while. Then, Scott chuckled lightly. "Off the subject. I can't wait for you to meet my best friend, Luis. You will love him. He has a unique way of looking at the world, always seeing the bright side of any situation, and ready for anything. He's also an amazing storyteller."

Wanda put her hand up for quiet. Using her psionics, she sent Scott a message. _We are being followed. Whoever it is, she was able, for a time, to hide her true self. She is not who she appears, that much I can say. Her mind is filled with deception, anger, and arrogance, all bordering on a madness similar to Hrolf's. She strongly believes that what she is doing is the right thing, and that the lives that have been and will be lost are the price for attaining her goal_.

Out loud, Scott asked, "And that is?"

 _To be queen of Wakanda at Hrolf's side. But she has her own agenda that remains hidden_.

The headlights of a ground vehicle came toward them. Wanda and Scott quickly ducked into a hiding place until it passed. Keeping his voice low, he continued, "I can make a guess. Once they're in control, she'll have him assassinated, making it look like an accident, and take the throne for herself."

"Yes." Wanda gripped his hand. "They've gone. We must go."

While their tail had been distracted by the vehicle, Scott and Wanda changed direction. She could feel the woman's intense anger had having lost sight of them, and it made her smile.

~~O~~

The slight figure slipped through the darkness, and when the way was clear, she darted across the open field, vaulted the ten-foot fence, landing sure-footed on the other side. Once she was certain no one had followed, she knocked on the back door in a specific pattern.

Slowly, the door opened, and a single brown eye appeared above the barrel of a rifle. The woman stepped back, and pushed the door wide, holding the rifle in one hand. "I had to be certain you were alone. Sit and rest. I will bring you something to drink."

"Thank you. I need to bathe and eat as well." She yawned. "Maybe just eat."

"Of course." The woman's name was Jira, life-long friend to fourth in line to the throne of Wakanda, Kaya. She set a tall glass of tea on the table next to her. It wasn't cold, but it would do. "Let me get you something to sleep in." Raising her voice to be heard, Jira went into the bedroom, opening and closing drawers. "From your presence, I assume that you have not spoken with Steven about your special abilities."

Kaya lay a helmet on the table and pulled off her boots, and wiggled her toes in the thick carpeting. "I was going to do so tonight, but the Fifth Column forced a change of plans. He also believes that I have been kidnapped by the Fifth Column." Jira crossed her arms, and shifted all weight onto one foot. "When the time is right, I will reveal myself to Steven and his friends. They will be surprised and shocked, naturally. Only Clint knows the truth, but not the entirety of it."

Jira returned to the kitchen, coming back with a plate of food. She sat next to her on the sofa while she ate. "As someone with a Ph.D. in mythological studies and a masters in astronomy, I have given some thought as to the reason for the Fifth Column to attempt the coup now instead of at a more convenient time, such as daylight."

"And what have you deduced, my friend?" Kaya was interested, and tried to pay attention, though she could barely keep her eyes open.

"I believe that tonight was a test of strength for both sides, and that the actual coup will commence at sundown tomorrow." She opened the laptop on the table, holding it so they could both see. "I've done the calculations, drawn charts and graphs, and before the power outage, consulted with astronomy colleagues in America, India, and New Zealand, and we are all in agreement." She minimized the pages, leaving one for Kaya to read. "Tomorrow night, if you look to the east just as the sun touches the horizon in the west, the world will experience its second blood moon in less than two years. That in itself is extremely rare. So rare, in fact, that it has never happened before in recent history.

"At the same time, the Neofelis meteor shower, which is said to be especially heavy this year, will streak across the sky. Astronomers from around the world will be humbled before these extraordinary events happening simultaneously. I believe the leader of the Fifth Column sees this event as a sign that he will be victorious in his quest to become king of Wakanda." Jira grabbed Kaya's wrist. "It is imperative that he be stopped before he destroys all that we and our ancestors have built. Because you are a woman and a member of the royal family, Kaya, _you_ and you alone, must be the one to defeat him, and be _seen_ doing it, by his people _and_ ours. Only then will his followers recognize that he is not a god who had taken human form, but just a man."

 **The Black Bear Den**

 **A Lumberjack-themed Restaurant**

The outside of the Black Bear Den resembled a log cabin with a stone chimney from which rose the enticing scent of food cooking. The building was modeled on an old-time lumberjack camp. Anyone could be forgiven for expecting to see a bearded man in a red flannel shirt, carrying an enormous ax, accompanied by a blue ox named Babe.

The inside was much the same, with the rustic interior camouflaging many of the modern fixtures. Photos of lumberjack camps from the past hung on the walls, interspersed with rusted blocks, a butt-rigging, an assortment of cables, rings, and knobs that attached the choker to the mainline, a replica of a yarder, and many other tools of the lumberjack trade.

The server had just brought a carafe of coffee to the table when a woman slid into the booth across from Peter. Her features and shape were obscured by a bulky jacket with the hood up. "I know you're in there somewhere, Reese."

"Sh! Don't say my name so loud, Nacoma. Someone might hear you."

He rolled his eyes while adding a packet of sugar to his coffee. "And what if they do? We worked together. It's not beyond the realm of possibility that we could also be friends."

Reese pushed the hood back, unzipped the jacket and shrugged out of it. "Fine. Be that way. Take away my first and only chance to be a spy." She waved to the server and pointed to Peter's cup. "Let the commiseration dinner commence."

"We weren't the only ones to get canned after the prison break, you know."

"Yeah, but I don't like the rest of the crew. Well, maybe Vega. A little. When he's not being an ass, which is most of the time."

The server returned. "Ready to order?"

Peter laid the menu on the edge of the table. "I'll have the giant sequoia burger. No Swiss cheese or pickles, and fries. Reese?"

"I'll have the cream of mushroom soup, and the club on rye, not toasted, no cheese, extra mayo."

The young woman picked up the menus with a smile. "It'll be ready in a few minutes. More coffee?"

Reese pushed her cup away. "Could I get hot chocolate instead? Extra whipped cream, please."

"Coming right up."

When she was gone, Reese opened the bag tucked against her side, and took out several photos. she laid them on the table in front of her. Keeping her voice low so it wouldn't carry, she fiddled with the spoon. "My dad's in the Army. A drill sergeant at Fort Sill. Recently, he was asked to step up and take a position with AIT at SWCS for SOCOM." She waited while the server set a steaming cup piled high with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles in front of her. "Mom, Dad and Arlo are moving to Tampa. My little brother is _so_ excited. He hates the snow. They want me to come with them, now that I'm unemployed."

What Reese was saying seemed to have nothing to do with the photos. Sometimes, it took her a while to get to the point. All Peter had to do was wait.

"I know what happened the day of the prison break."

"I should hope so. The entire staff was fired two weeks later."

Her eyes flicked down to her cup. "You helped the fugitives escape." She looked around, and slowly pushed the photos over to him. "What you don't know, and wouldn't now if we hadn't been fired is that I wasn't knocked out by the gas. The doc was giving me a breathing treatment for my bronchitis. When he passed out, I switched to an oxygen mask and did some investigating."

Turning the photos over wasn't necessary. If Reese was conscious during the events prior to the Raft being dropped on the runway of the base, she was telling the truth. They'd never discussed their opinions on the Accords, and they didn't have to, or he'd be in a federal prison instead of eating one of the best burgers in town.

Still, he picked the photos up, and shuffled through them. The last one was of him and Cameron in Operations. His friend was overriding the computer systems while he, Peter, stood by, thumbs hooked in his belt, and Captain Rogers greeted Wilson through the bars.

In and of themselves, most of the photos were highly incriminatory. What wasn't immediately clear was why Reese hadn't said something sooner. The only scenario that he could think of had far-reaching consequences for both of them. "How'd you get these?"

Reese's left hand turned over. Nestled in her palm was a thumb drive the size of a quarter. "You missed a couple of the cameras, Peter. Don't worry. I destroyed the recordings after downloading to this." One side of her mouth turned up. "Needed proof, in case you didn't believe me."

A different server brought their food, nodded, and left them alone. "What do you want?"

She seemed genuinely perplexed at his question. "What d'you mean?"

He laid the photos out of her reach, and picked up the ketchup bottle. "This is an obvious attempt at blackmail. It won't succeed, but please, do go on. You have my attention. I should at least hear your pitch."

Now it was Peter's turn to be confused. Reese stopped with her spoon halfway to her mouth, eyes wide. It started with a snort, followed by a snicker. Then, she covered her mouth with a napkin to stifle the laughter.

Annoyed, he poured ketchup on the plate, dipped a fry and ate it, waiting for the punchline.

Eventually, Reese wound down. She used the napkin to wipe her eyes, took a sip of her drink, and stirred the soup, scooping up a piece of mushroom. "Thanks. I haven't had a good laugh in a while."

He finished chewing, and picked up the burger, after first checking for pickles, which he loathed. "Blackmail isn't funny, Reese."

"No, it isn't. I didn't arrange this meeting to catch you out. I just… I need someone to talk to about the prison break. That shrink they sent us to, I couldn't say anything to him about it, of course, or we'd be in adjoining cells eating prison food."

In all the time they'd known each other, these were the most words the pair had ever exchanged. Normally, Reese was quiet and somewhat shy, unless she felt comfortable with you. Peter supposed he should be honored that she felt that way about him. Hell, he _was_ honored, considering the crew compliment on the Raft, and he was the only one she ever talked to about subjects other than work. "So, this is…"

Reese's cheeks turned pink. "About finding a friend." One shoulder lifted and fell, and included a sheepish grin. "And, who knows, maybe an adventure."

"Or two?"

She pointed her spoon at him. "Exactly."

Peter lifted his cup. "To adventure."

 **Wakanda**

 **Half a Mile from the Residence**

A twig snapped, and Natasha was immediately on her feet, Widow's Bites powered up and glowing. She shut them down in relief as Wanda and Scott came out of the darkness. She ran to hug her daughter. Bucky joined them, and he moved in for a hug too.

No words were exchanged as Clint and Cameron approached from another direction, supporting Hill between them. They let her down on a tree stump to rest. Clint used ASL to communicate with Natasha.

He stopped in mid-sign, his forehead creasing in confusion. She moved in close to whisper, "What's wrong?"

"I'm getting static in my implants that sounds like someone trying to make contact on a low-band frequency. It's not Hrolf and his people, and it's not Cap or any of the others."

Wanda moved to his side. "If you will permit me, I may be able to enhance the power, make the words clear."

~~O~~

Clint sat on the stump next to Hill. Wanda knelt beside him, a thin tendril of psionic mist extending from her forefinger, absorbed by the shaved area over his implant. "Whoa. Keep doing that. It's working."

He winced at a loud electronic crackle, and the words that followed.

" _Friday to Agent Romanoff. Please come in_."

While Bucky and several of the Dora Milaje patrolled the perimeter of their hideout, Natasha exchanged a shrug with Clint. As if she were standing in front of him, he said, "Friday?"

" _Agent Barton._ " The AI sounded relieved. " _I'm so glad I finally got through. Is Agent Romanoff with you?_ "

"She is."

Apparently, Clint didn't answer quick enough to suit Friday, as she overrode him, her voice urgent, almost panicked. " _Mr. Stark and Vision are on their way to Wakanda. Both Vision and I attempted to dissuaded him, to no avail. Sorry._ "

Under his breath, Clint muttered, "Shit!" Natasha signed, and he waved her away, answering with his question to Friday. "How long till Stark and Vision arrive?"

He ignored the shocked gasps from the group to concentrate on his conversation with Friday. " _Any moment now_."

Another burst of static drowned out anything more that the AI might've said. Clint clapped his hands over his ears, though it didn't help because it was inside his head. He sagged in relief when it abruptly cut off. If he had to guess, he'd say Friday severed the connection so Tony wouldn't know that she'd been helping them from the beginning.

Steve, Sam, and Ife came running up to their group. "What's going on?"

Everyone got to their feet, looking up at the sky, watching the thin ribbon of glow from thrusters as they passed behind a stand of trees.

They exchanged uneasy glances as Tony and Vision landed in a field no more than twenty yards away.

 **TBC**

"I Won't Back Down" is a song by American rock musician Tom Petty. It was released in April 1989 as the lead single from his first solo album, _Full Moon Fever_. The song was written by Petty and Jeff Lynne.

AIT - Advanced Individual Training

SWCS - The U.S. Army John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center and School (SWCS) - known informally as "Swick" - primarily trains and educates United States Army personnel for the United States Army Special Operations Command (USASOC) and United States Special Operations Command (SOCOM), which includes Special Forces, Civil Affairs, and Psychological Operations personnel. Its purpose is to recruit, assess, select, train and educate the U.S. Army Civil Affairs, Psychological Operations and Special Forces Soldiers by providing training and education, developing doctrine, integrating force-development capability, and providing career management.

SOCOM - The United States Special Operations Command (USSOCOM or SOCOM) is the Unified Combatant Command charged with overseeing the various Special Operations Component Commands of the Army, Marine Corps, Navy, and Air Force of the United States Armed Forces. The command is part of the Department of Defense and is the only Unified Combatant Command legislated into being by the U.S. Congress. USSOCOM is headquartered at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida.


	55. Only the Moon Howls

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sunny

There are nights when the wolves are silent, and only the moon howls.

~ George Carlin, _Brain Droppings_ , 1997

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Only the Moon Howls**

 **The Black Bear Den**

 **A Lumberjack-themed Restaurant**

Just by chance, Reese and Peter had parked next to each other. Standing between the vehicles, they faced each other, and the look in his eyes gave the sense that he was waiting for her to suggest they get together again, or even go somewhere else, perhaps to celebrate their new friendship. "With the severance package they gave us, I'm taking my time looking for a new job."

Peter leaned against his car, and crossed his arms. "Same here. My family wants me to move back too. They aren't happy that I'm resisting their efforts at persuasion." He rubbed the back of his fingers over the three days of beard scruff. "On the upside, I don't have to shave."

"It's a good look for you. Women don't have the same luxury, not even when unemployed. We still have to get the legs and eyebrows waxed, hair colored, pedicure, manicure, and compulsively wash and moisturize." Her car keys jangled, and she shoved them into the pocket of her jacket. "My younger brother, Arlo, is the one turning the screws. He'll be in college next year, and wants me to enroll with him. Once I choose a new calling, that is. His words."

"Not happy with your career choice, is he?"

Reese raised her eyebrows at him. " _No_. He's vehemently anti-military, especially for women. It's not that he thinks we aren't cut out for service. In his opinion, women are more ruthless than men, and are therefore," she made finger quotes, "unfit for combat."

He laughed out loud, uncrossed his arms, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I have to admit, he does have a point." At her mild glare, he explained, "I've seen female soldiers working out and performing hand-to-hand drills. If you take into account the inherent physical differences, pound for pound, women have men beat." While she searched for another subject, the look in Peter's eyes told a short story. He wanted to ask a question, but wasn't certain if he'd be red-lighted.

"You know, Reese, all night, you've been calling me by my first name, and I just realized I don't know yours."

Oh, boy. Now the truth will be out, and she won't be able to take it back. Reese gave a nanosecond's thought to lying, but what would be the point? It would only delay the inevitable. "Depends on who you ask. You see, I have an older brother in the Army. When I joined up, my parents were skeptical of my ability to be one of the guys, as Mom put it. Plus, there's the fact that she's a conscientious objector, like my brother. What that means is I enlisted sort of under a fake name. Amanda Leigh Reese. In order, maternal grandmother, paternal grandmother, mother's maiden. Had to have my name changed to make it legal."

His deadpan stare meant she hadn't surprised him. "So, what's your real name? If you don't mind me asking."

"I _do_ mind. Also make exceptions for friends. Might also change it back. Still thinking about it." Looking down at her feet, Reese took a deep breath. Peter would be the only person aside from her CO who had this knowledge. "If you laugh, I'll kick you where it hurts." He put his hands up in surrender. "Rainbow Liberty Adams."

His eyes widened in mild surprise. "It's a beautiful name."

"Oh, I agree. But not a name for career military, even if that career is now caput." Peter grinned at her sheepish eye roll. "I just couldn't see myself marching into the base commander's office and saying, 'Lieutenant Rainbow Liberty Adams reporting for duty, sir'."

This time, he covered his laugh with one hand. "Not laughing at the name. I'm picturing the look on Colonel Vorbeck's face. He seldom cracks a smile."

She twisted her lips in thought. "I saw his cheek twitch one time when I let go of the rope too soon, and fell in the mudhole during a drill."

Peter shuffled his feet, as if impatient to end the night. "What should I call you?"

Giving in gracefully, Reese smiled wryly. "My family calls me Lib or Libby, short for Liberty, but I prefer Rain, if you have to use my given name. Otherwise, Reese is good."

"I like Rain." His expression didn't change, though his eyes twinkled with humor. "I also like the rain. Win-win, I say." Keys jingled. "How are you at darts?"

Glad to drop the issue of her name, Reese pressed the button to unlock her car doors. "I can hit a target. Why?"

"Let's get a beer before last call, and play a couple games."

 **Wakanda**

 **Near the Power Station**

Grinning at the destruction he'd caused, Ulysses Klaue allowed one of his men to remove the sonic disruptor, a re-engineered mining tool, and carefully place it on the shelf while Klaue reattached the prosthetic hand. Flexing his forearm opened the back and spread the ring and middle finger to enable a smaller version of the disruptor to emerge. He flexed again, and the weapon sunk into the arm. It was covered by the synthetic flesh that looked real, and the weight had taken getting used to.

The bank of monitors showed the chaos he'd wrought on the country of the man who'd declined to assist after Klaue had been maimed by Ultron.

In an effort to change the image he presented to his clients, Klaue had neatened up his beard. He'd bathed just last night, and wore clothing that was not only clean, they had been ironed, and in good repair.

To prove that he could do business with the best of the best, and on their terms, he wore trousers made from Wakandan material that breathed to keep the wearer from overheating in the humid summer months. They were worn with a loose tunic, both in bright colors with intricate designs typical of Wakandan style. With his naturally tanned skin and darkened hair, he seldom received undo attention from the natives, until he spoke. In the last few months, he'd paid a tutor to help him round out his harsh accent.

Movement on the screen that showed the front of the palace drew his attention. The longer he watched, the angrier he became, for in the middle of the straggling survivors, he saw _her_. That witch in red and black. The one who tried to mess with his mind, and those of his men. He felt it just before Ultron cut off his arm and pushed him down the stairs. She and her brother had tried their hand at intimidation for the first time, and had failed miserably. Klaue had to give them credit for disorienting the Avengers. It wasn't her fault, really, that his only real fear was cuttlefish. He pointed the laser at the screen. "You'll be the first to go, witch."

On another screen, the last of Hrolf's people disappeared into the early morning light. Klaue neither knew nor cared where they were headed. At their first meeting, he sensed that the man was delusional, filled with an unwarranted rage, and bent on revenge. For the moment, the men had similar agendas: to destroy Wakanda.

Until recently, Klaue had been one of the few outsiders who had seen firsthand the wealth that Wakanda possessed, while they played the part of a third world country. When his plan was complete, they'd become the deception. He would take their wealth for himself, and leave Hrolf as the king of a nation that could not even feed its own people. They would sink into poverty, requiring them to request aid from other countries, digging themselves deeper and deeper into debt.

Klaue grinned to himself at the thought of the Wakandan people overthrowing Hrolf's regime, leaving him once again a disgraced outcast. Humiliation would lead him to take his own life, thereby doing Klaue's job for him. The man would be dead, and not a speck of blood on him.

With T'Challa, his family, and Hrolf out of the way, Klaue would graciously step in to help the Wakandan people, earning him their eternal gratitude. In this case, gratitude equaled money and power. Add that to his already formidable reputation as an arms dealer, collaborator and destroyer of governments, and he'd be a force to reckoned with in the world political arena. The leaders of other countries would fear his wrath.

Klaue relaxed in his chair, and crossed one leg over the other, singing under his breath, "Oh, I just can't wait to be king!"

 **Near the Residence**

"Scan the area, Friday. Make sure they weren't followed."

As always, Tony's command to the AI gave the impression he was asking a favor. Vision envied his ability to put people at ease with just a few words.

" _First things first, boss. Name change_."

The faceplate retracted. "Do go on. I love our little talks." This time, his voice was flat and unemotional.

" _Call me Reggie from now on_."

Tony pretended to yawn. "Fascinating. We'll talk about going beyond the parameters of your programming when I get home. For now, do the scan."

Vision came to stand next to him. "That will not be necessary, sir." He nodded at the ragtag group of people sheltered within the trees. Running footsteps sounded from their left, and they turned to see Steve, Sam and several attractive Wakanda women come into sight.

Steve put up a hand, calling a halt. His eyes met Tony's, and for a moment, Vision wished he could read his companion's thoughts as the look in his eyes changed to an emotion related to the blind rage he experienced in Siberia as Bucky pushed his way through to Steve's side.

Tony stalked toward Bucky, the intent to do him harm in his posture and expression. For his part, Bucky merely raised his left arm as if to hold him off. "Wait!" The center of his palm emitted a blue-white light.

The beam slammed into Tony's chest, knocking him head over heels into the lush green grass. A collective gasp went through those watching. After a moment, Steve and Bucky moved closer, yet didn't invade Tony's personal space. "Tony?"

He rolled onto his back. " _Son of a_ _bitch_ _! That hurt!_ "

Vision himself was just as surprised as Tony when the former Avengers exclaimed, "Language!"

Only Steve and Bucky didn't join in. The super-soldiers looked at each other and rolled their eyes, but made no other comment. By an unspoken agreement, Steve and Bucky took the few necessary steps to Tony's side, extending their hands.

The tension in the air thickened until even Vision could feel it. Then, Tony accepted the invitation for help standing. Immediately, the two men stepped back, arms hanging loosely at their sides, ready for a fight, should it happen.

The front of the suit retracted, and Tony stepped out. "Sentry mode, Reggie. Block audio, visual and satellite. Monitor for hostiles."

" _Yes, boss._ "

For a moment, Tony appeared reluctant to face his former friends. His eyes slanted to Vision, seemingly asking for advice. Vision looked back without emotion, letting his friend come to his own decision. An awkward silence draped itself around them. No one seemed to know what to say.

Bucky was the first to break the immobility by holding up his left hand, so Tony and Vision could see the miniature arc reactor in the center of his palm. "Sorry. Forgot I had it."

Tony stretched his muscles, and cracked his neck. "No harm done, Barnes." He pointed his chin at Hill still sitting on the stump. "Reggie, scan Maria Hill."

Blue light played over Hill's form, returning to her left side. " _Through and through GSW. Bleeding has stopped, for now. Her vitals are weak. She needs to be in hospital, boss._ "

"Yeah, Hill won't agree to that."

Even with his mouth closed, Tony gave the impression of a jaw-drop at seeing Cameron Klein brush the odd white streak in the front of her hair back behind her ear while talking softly to her. Hill gripped Cameron's hand, shaking her head. She wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

When they first arrived, Wanda had been at the back of the group. Now, she was gone. With his superior hearing, Vision picked up whispered conversation a few yards away. It stopped upon his approach, and when Wanda came into view, she was in the arms of the one he knew only as Ant-Man. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but couldn't help it.

"He has to be told, Wanda. You can't let him think the two of you will pick up where you left off."

Wanda nodded, easing back from the embrace. "You're right. It wouldn't be fair to either of us, or to you."

Her head rested on his shoulder. He smoothed a hand over her long hair. "Too bad the rest of the world can't see you through my eyes, babe."

Recalling that he'd once said the same, Vision cleared his throat to announce his presence. The couple looked up, but didn't immediately separate. Wanda's eyes met his, and they parted, holding hands as he came forward.

"Vis…"

He raised a hand to stop what would surely be an apology. "I can see how much you care for each other." Glancing over at the others and back, he smiled. "It's only natural that you would feel close after what you've been through." Wanda smiled and gripped his hand briefly. "To be truthful, I too have found someone for whom I have warm feelings."

She tried to hide it, but Wanda was surprised and delighted. Then, she smiled. "I'm happy for you, Vis. What is she like?"

"Much like you. Kind, warm, intelligent, attractive." The tall man moved, reminding Wanda of her social duty to perform introductions.

"You haven't formally met. Vision, this is Scott Lang. You know him as Ant-Man."

The men shook hands. More would've been said, but it was all put aside at a call from Steve.

As the group surrounded Steve and Tony, Vision kept a close eye on everyone, just in case emotional wounds were still too fresh.

Thumbs jammed into the belt of his uniform in varied shades of black, Steve gave them a stern gaze. "Our first priority is the safety of the royal family. Those who reside in the secondary residence were escorted to the panic room in the basement. Once we've checked on them, we'll set up a perimeter, and see to it that everyone gets a chance for a hot meal and a shower. After the strategy meeting, we'll take turns on patrol."

Vision stepped forward. "As the only one who has need for neither sleep nor nourishment, I will see to everyone's safety."

Steve accepted his offer with a nod. "There's a secret entrance near the stables at the back of the property. Once Sam, Vision and I have ascertained that none of Hrolf's people are inside, the rest of you can join us."

"Not to complain, but why you, Old Man?" Tony's use of the endearment told Vision that he still thought of the fugitives as friends, however distant their current relationship.

"Because I have the codes to shut down the security system, and Kaya's family knows me."

~~O~~

The moment he said her name, Steve saw the intense interest in Tony's eyes, and prepared himself for the teasing he knew would come.

"And who is Kaya?"

Sam raised a hand. "I can help you there. She's the king's cousin," he slapped Steve on the back, "and Cap's squeeze."

A grin turned up Tony's mouth. "You're playing slap and tickle with a princess? Way to go, Old Man." He looked around. "She's not here?"

"She's… missing." Not wanting to go into his relationship with Kaya at the moment or why he hadn't been able to keep her safe, Steve said in an undertone that couldn't have been mistaken for banter. "We'll talk later, about a lot of things." He lifted his chin. "Sam, Vision, you're with me. We'll signal when it's safe to come inside."

Tony and Vision could've scanned for the enemy, but Steve needed to see for himself that Kaya's family was safe. Plus, it was as he said, of the team, only he had the codes for the security system from watching Kaya.

When they neared the secret entrance, Steve issued orders. "Once we're inside, I need you to clear the upper floors, Sam. Vision, clear the first floor, paying special attention to the closets in the entryway."

"Closets?"

~~O~~

"A couple of Hrolf's men made it onto the property before they could be stopped. Had to dispose of them quickly."

The tone of Steve's voice gave Vision more information than the man would've on his own. This is where his paramour had gone missing on his watch, as Steve was fond of saying, and he blamed himself. As with those who'd been left behind after the airport battle, he would do everything in his power to find her, and not just because of their intimate relationship. The military had a saying: no man left behind, even if that "man" was a woman. Vision vowed to assist him in any way possible.

At Steve's signal, the trio took cover. Using hand signals, Steve let Sam and he know that the entrance was up ahead. He would go first to enter the codes, and they would follow.

~~O~~

Within minutes, the men were at the end of the tunnel where it entered the house. They all had their orders, making further words unnecessary. Using the mind stone as a light, Vision waited for Steve's signal. On three, the door opened, and each headed for their assigned area.

Scanning the entryway, Vision found no one, dead or alive. One door had been smashed open from the inside, and the other had a broken lock, as if it had been twisted past its stopping point. A chair lay nearby, and had obviously been used to slow down whomever had been in there, though Steve hadn't mentioned taking such precautions.

Levitating to eliminate footsteps that would warn of his approach, Vision floated through the entire first floor, taking in the luxurious furnishings that reminded him of Tony's mansion in the Hamptons, but much older. Centuries old antiques.

His search complete, Vision exited out through the double glass doors of the sitting room. He made a complete circuit of the building, finding nothing worthy of note.

Tuning into the frequency utilized by Steve and his people, Vision kept his voice low. "First floor and the outside of the residence, clear."

" _Good work. Go help Sam_."

"On my way." Vision met Sam on his way down from the third floor. The human nodded. "Floors two and three are clear, sir."

~~O~~

After a quick search of the basement, Steve approached the hidden entrance to the panic room. The name was not exactly descriptive of what lay beyond. The "room" had all the amenities of the residential floor at Stark Tower. A full kitchen, common area, a library, several bedrooms, and enough supplies to keep up to twenty people comfortably for a month.

The shield hooked to his left arm, Steve entered the code. A series of muffled thunks instead of an electric shock strong enough to knock even him out proved he'd remembered the code correctly.

He was confronted with the business ends of several weapons in the hands of Kaya's parents and the support staff, and their expressions were nearly as lethal. When they saw who it was, the weapons were lowered, but he didn't relax until the safeties were engaged, and the weapons were put away.

"Steven!" Kaya's parents exclaimed together. Jamila gripped his arms. "We've been down here so long, we had begun to think the worst."

Abdu continued, "Zaleema was able to hack into the video feeds in and around the palace."

The couple smiled at Steve in a way that made him think he'd misheard them that day outside of Kaya's office. "Then you have some idea of what we're up against."

"Indeed," Abdu agreed. "We saw you and another, a tall man, fighting a large group on the roof." He nodded at the shield. "And I must say, it is amazing that relative strangers would risk their lives in such a way."

"Yes." Jamila kept hold of his hand, pulling him farther into the room. "We were also quite impressed with your fighting skills, especially with the…"

"Shield." Steve touched his ear. "Sam, Vision. We're locked down here. Bring in the troops."

The sigh of relief had to be Sam. " _You got it. Back in ten. Vision's gonna hang out, keep an eye on things_."

"Roger that." To the wide-eyed faces looking up at him, Steve said, "I hope you don't mind. I've brought my team and a few others. The rebels ran off when the city went dark, and we're not sure why. Others are in place, guarding the rest of your family at the research building and the palace, and seeing to the dead and injured. We would've stayed as well, but I had to see for myself that you were okay, for Kaya's sake." He looked at the floor. "She hasn't been seen or heard from since…"

Kaya's parents exchanged odd little smiles. Jamila hooked her arm around Steve's elbow. "Do not worry, Steven. Our daughter is quite resourceful."

Steve let his features fall into an unreadable mask, choosing to allow them to think he was just as confident. "We just need somewhere to rest, and maybe get a hot meal." Raising his voice so all could hear, he added, "The rebels _will_ be back. We're just not sure when."

A beep interrupted the conversation, and one of the staff went to a desk to power up the computer. "Your highnesses, we've received an email message." The woman looked up. "It is addressed to Captain Rogers."

Confused, Steve glanced over his shoulder, though he knew that Vision would watch their backs. The woman, Zaleema, stayed seated as he leaned over her shoulder to read.

 _The Vyfde Kolom will renew their attack at sundown tonight. It is imperative that the leader of Wakanda be the one to defeat their leader without interference from another. All will be explained in time_.

"Who sent it?"

Zaleema shook her head slowly. "It was sent through an anonymous server with no return address. Even if you wished, we could not respond to the sender."

Her skin was several shades darker than caramel, her eyes dark brown, with hair twisted into tight little curls that lay against her scalp. Without touching her, he could tell that she would be more than able to hold her own in a fight. It was in the way she held her back perfectly straight, even sitting. And while she was dressed as one of the medical staff, just the fact that she'd been able to hack into the few video feeds still active said there was so much more to her than a medical degree. If he had to guess, he'd say that Zaleema was Dora Milaje, tasked with protecting those members of the royal family who currently resided at the residence, as well as those who were temporary guests.

The breath hissed as she inhaled. So fast, Steve had to jump out of the way, Zaleema was on her feet and had a weapon in her hands, pointed at the still open door. Steve heard it too, now. He moved to block her aim. "It's my people."

She looked from him to Abdu, who nodded. The weapon lowered, but instead of returning it to a hiding place, she shoved it into the back waistband of her pants. No, not the waistband. As she returned to the computer, he saw that she had a holster strapped around her waist. She'd moved so fast before, he hadn't seen where she got it. Now he knew why.

Sam and Clint entered the room, stopping just inside the door. Clint aimed a thumb over his shoulder. "The rest of the gang's upstairs."

Abdu stepped forward, catching Clint and Sam's gazes, but addressing Steve as their leader. "Until the rebels are routed, I and my family with remain here. You are all welcome to utilize the facilities and supplies. Take whatever is needed to make your people comfortable, Steven. My wife and I request to be included in any strategy meetings."

"You think the email was legit?"

"Yes, I do believe it was, as you say, legit." Proud of her correct use of the slang, Jamila returned to her husband's side. "You see, only a few people know to contact us in this way. Kaya is one of them. She would not have given the information to another even under duress." She motioned for Steve to follow them into a small bedroom and closed the door. "Steven, I am ashamed to say that, following our first meeting, my husband and I did not think you a good match for our daughter, due to the reason for you and your people seeking refuge in Wakanda. Not because you are Caucasian, or not formally educated."

Immediately, Steve understood that there had been so much more to the conversation than what he overheard. "And now?"

Abdu lay a hand on his shoulder, smiling. "If the day should come that you and our daughter are to be wed, we would be honored to have you as our son." Not knowing what to say, Steve let out a breath.

Jamila touched him on the cheek. "When you are ready to ask for her hand, as our tradition dictates, the answer will be yes."

"Until then, Steven, we would be pleased to have you call us Jamila and Abdu," her husband added.

His headset crackled. With a smile of acceptance and apology, Steve went out into the hall. "Rogers."

" _Cameron here, sir. Maria needs medical attention_ _now_ _. She's bleeding again_."

"Stand by."

The look on his face was seen by Zaleema and the others. "Is there a problem, Captain Rogers?"

"Yes. A member of my team, Maria Hill, was shot, and others need first aide."

Without consulting the Hawas, Zaleema issued orders like one who is used to being obeyed, speaking to medical staff. "Akai and Panya, go and bring the injured here for treatment. I will prepare the surgical room for Maria."

Akai and Panya went to the storage room off the sitting area, and came out carrying medical cases. They pushed past Sam and Clint, their footsteps pounding on the stairs.

If T'Challa was alive and in Wakanda, he had reasons for not revealing himself to Steve and the others. It wasn't his secret to tell. "With T'Challa dead, who will take the throne?"

Jamila deferred to her husband with a glance. Abdu sighed, as if the decision were weighing on his mind. "Because T'Challa has no heirs, that duty would fall first to our great uncle, Obasi. Unfortunately, he is unable to take control as he passed away in his sleep just last night. The aunts are his wife and her sister, both natives of Kenya, born and raised in Nairobi, and as such, are ineligible to take the throne. Also, they are in their nineties, and quite frail. Such a task would be too much of a burden."

"What about you, sir?"

"Following the death of our uncle, I would be next in line. However, I must decline. I prefer my duties as the U.N. attaché." Abdu held his wife's hand. "And my wife is from…"

Steve remembered his first ever conversation with Kaya. "Sao Paulo, Brazil. Kaya told me. So, who's next?"

Shaking his head, Abdu smiled wryly. "Fourth in line to the throne, Steven, is Kaya. I know that she is unharmed, and will return to us soon. And once the Vyfde Kolom has been disposed of, she will take her place a queen of Wakanda."

Clint slapped Steve on the back. "Way to go, Cap. Gonna change your name to Prince Rogers?"

Jamila and Abdu laughed out loud while the staff quietly snickered. Jamila recovered first. "As they are not wed, when Kaya takes the throne, he will not be given the honorific. We will have to come up with a title for the consort of an unmarried queen."

Relieved, Steve turned as Akai and Panya returned. Akai carried Hill down the hallway, presumably into one of the bedrooms, or a medical treatment room with Cameron hot on his heels carrying one of the medical cases while Panya followed with the other. A door slammed then opened and slammed again.

Cameron joined them a moment later, his expression grave. "She passed out just after you left us. They're, uh, prepping her for surgery. Internal bleeding. Zaleema said…" Jamila led Cameron to a chair, forced him to sit, and pressed a glass of water into his hands. "It may be too late. They're not sure if they can save her."

 **TBC**

"I Just Can't Wait to Be King" is a song from Disney's 1994 animated film, _The Lion King_. With music by Elton John and words written by Tim Rice, the song is performed by the characters of Simba (Jason Weaver), Nala (Laura Williams) and Zazu (Rowan Atkinson) in the film.


	56. Long Way Down

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Long Way Down**

Vision caught Zaleema's eye, letting her know with a nod that he would see to everyone's safety, so she could assist with the surgery on Maria Hill. She had no reason to trust him, yet she did. This aspect of humans, instinct, or a gut feeling, had baffled him even before his transformation. By associating with his human friends, there was the hope that he'd eventually understand. For now, he was content knowing that the humans had faith in his ability to protect them.

Clint stepped forward, speaking to Jamila. "If it's okay with you, your highness, our people need food, so, I'm going to raid the kitchen." She looked at him oddly. Though Vision didn't know what it meant, Clint obviously did. "Sorry, your highness." He bowed slightly. "Clint Barton. Sometimes known as Hawkeye."

Jamila smiled, and offered her hand. "Of course, Mr. Barton. I do a little cooking myself. Would you care for assistance?"

The archer politely waved away her suggestion. "We got this, ma'am." He nudged Cameron. "We're on KP." The younger man cast a glance down the hallway where the surgery was being done on Hill. "That's _not_ a request, Klein. Let's go. They'll call us when it's over."

Clint's tone changed toward the end, becoming softer, gentler. If Vision had to put a name to it, he would say "fatherly". Only fitting, as he had three children. Now that he thought about it, Clint had displayed the same tendency toward all his friends at one time or another, including Steve and Tony, except during what was referred to as crunch time.

Cameron wavered a moment then followed Clint from the room. Their footsteps could be heard on the stairs that led to the first floor.

Jamila and Abdu, standing close together, speaking softly in Wakandan, glanced at Vision. To put them at ease, he addressed them instead of Steve. "If you have no further need of me, I will secure and monitor the building and surrounding areas, your highnesses."

"Of course. Thank you."

~~O~~

Setting his bow and quiver on the small table in the corner, Clint kept an eye on Cameron, so he wouldn't run off. He went to the sink to wash his hands. Belatedly, Cameron did the same.

"Let's see what we have to work with."

"I'm not a good cook, Agent Barton," Cameron informed him. He finished drying his hands, and hung the towel on the drying bar.

Clint waved him over to the pantry where he found the usual items: flour, sugar, salt, rice, and so forth, as well as spices and products you'd expect to find in an African kitchen. "Don't have to be. As long as you can use a knife and follow instructions, we'll get the job done." He opened and closed cabinets, surveying the contents for ideas. "How many mouths we got to feed?"

"Twenty or so of the Dora Milaje, our people, plus those downstairs. I'd say forty, sir."

He handed Cameron items from the pantry, forcing him to following him around the room as he gathered ingredients for a meal. "I'd guess that four to seven are vegetarian or vegan, not counting you. Cap and Barnes eat like it's the last meal they'll ever have. Hill should be out of surgery soon. That means a liquid diet, once she wakes up. Plus, there's the older folks who have sensitive stomachs." Clint snorted. "It's like cooking at home. My kids all want something different. Today they like this and hate that, and tomorrow, they hate something they liked, and like something they hated. When she was four, my daughter decided she didn't like meat. For over a year, she was a vegetarian. I went vegetarian too, so she wouldn't feel out of place."

"Your kids each eat something different at every meal?"

"Hell no. In our house, there are two choices for meals: take it or leave it." They set everything on the counter, and Clint went to the enormous refrigerator. "You get started cutting up the cucumber, tomatoes, onion, and avocados for the salad, while I make the African version of Sheppard's Pie, _nyama na irio_."

Cameron found a knife and cutting board, and got to work, glancing in the direction of the basement door every few seconds.

"Attention on your work, pal, before you cut off a finger." Clint put a hand on his shoulder. "Hill's strong, with a fighting spirit. She'll get through this, as long as she has someone to lean on. She won't like it when we head out later." He squeezed briefly. "I need you to do me and Cap a favor. When the rest of us leave, stay and help out. Keep everyone calm until we come back. The Avengers have an excellent track record when it comes to defeating the bad guys. It'll all be over long before morning."

The younger man seemed about to refuse. Then, he nodded, and went back to peeling and cutting up the cucumber.

Footstep on the stairs indicated that the rest of their team was headed up to shower and change into clothing borrowed from the royal family. They'd be ready for dinner before long.

~~O~~

Anxious to get the fight over with, yet knowing his people need downtime, Steve chose a room, and closed himself inside. In the dresser, he found short pants and short sleeved shirts. He sat on the bench at the end of the bed, and lay the clothes next to him. Planting his elbows on his thighs, he dropped his head into his hands with a long sigh. He was tired, that much was true, but more than that, he really needed to know had happened to Kaya. If Hrolf had kidnapped her, why hadn't he contacted them to gloat or ask for a ransom? He might have killed her already, and that was the reason for silence. And if she _was_ dead… he'd deal with it, in his own way and time.

The thought that he might never see Kaya again reminded him of Peggy and all the years they'd lost. While he was entombed in ice, she had lived a full and rewarding life. It just didn't seem fair that it should happen to twice in one lifetime. But, as Tony was always quick to point out, life wasn't fair. The universe didn't owe him anything. He had been born by a simple twist of fate. A one in a million chance that one of his father's sperm had joined with his mother's egg.

Why did _he_ deserve to live when those he cared about died?

His stomach growled, reminding him that dinner would be ready soon, putting an end to his dark speculations.

Steve stripped out of his uniform, wrinkling his nose at the smell of sweat, dirt, and blood, some of which was his own. He hung the vibranium-infused garment on a hanger near the air conditioning vent to air it out. A door slammed, telling him that his neighbor was done in the bathroom they shared. At the moment, he didn't know or care who it was.

As a courtesy, Steve knocked before entering. With only the one door between him and the other bedroom, he could now hear voices: Bucky and Natasha. Tony had taken the room at the opposite end of the hall, with Steve in the middle.

Footsteps in the hall wouldn't have been heard by just anyone. His best guess would be Dora Milaje on patrol, supplementing Vision's surveillance. To do otherwise went against their training. No one could fault them for it.

His shower was quick, barely ten minutes. He pulled the shorts and shirt on over his still-wet body, and used a comb to tame his hair, giving a moment's thought to cutting it, and shaving. _Too much trouble_.

In the bedroom closet, Steve found several pairs of sandals. He chose a pair in his size, putting them on as he went to the door, hopping on one foot then the other. Someone was pacing outside his room. Tony.

He opened the door just a crack, surprised that Tony had stopped facing toward the stairs. In his right hand was the phone Steve had sent him all those months ago. He wasn't sure what to take away from that. He closed the door, and opened it again, making noise.

Tony swung around, the hand holding the phone behind his back. The rest of their team joined them, all casting a wary glance at the billionaire. Steve didn't have to be able to read minds to know what they were all thinking. Would Tony and Vision attempt to arrest them? Or was he about to call Secretary Ross with their whereabouts so they could be taken into custody?

Steve knew for a fact that Ross would need the king's permission to enter the country, and while he was fairly sure that T'Challa was alive, he hadn't shown himself at any time during the fighting. Abdu and Jamila were certain that Kaya was alive. And as their queen, she would not allow Ross's stormtroopers into the country either, and not because they loved each other. She would do it because it was the right thing to do.

They all stood there, unwilling to turn their backs on each other. Someone had to be the first, and as their leader, it fell to him to set the example. But before he could take a step, Natasha grasped Bucky's hand, and led him to the stairs.

As they passed Tony, he quipped, "Love the blonde hair, Romanoff."

She smiled affectionately at Bucky. "It's was his idea."

Following her mother's lead, Wanda did the same with Scott, entwining their fingers to show an intimate relationship. One by one, the rest followed, until only Steve and Tony remained. Side by side, they headed down the stairs to join the others in kitchen where Clint and Cameron had set up their meal buffet style. They'd also brought in a variety of chairs. Serving the meal here made clean-up easier.

Dishes in the sink showed that Cameron and Clint had already eaten. The younger man sat in the corner chewing on a thumbnail. With nothing to keep him busy, he'd gone back to worrying about Hill. "Cam, why don't you get us an update on Maria's condition?"

Cameron didn't waste any time arguing. He was gone in a flash.

Clint came back, his hair wet from the shower. Instead of finding a chair, he leaned against the wall. Standing where he could see everyone, Steve scooped up a bite of food, and washed it down with cold water, wishing it were lemonade, and he was sharing it with Kaya. "I'll make this quick, so we can all get some rest. Shortly after we arrived, an email was received that stated in no uncertain terms that Hrolf would attack again tonight. We'd already made that determination as his people were leaving the palace. What we don't know is why. Why they attacked last night. Why they cut and run when the power grid failed. Why they're going for the big push tonight. Or why the power grid failed in the first place."

Clint held up his hand. "I have a clue." Everyone looked at him expectantly. "It was Klein who figured it out. He heard a couple of Hrolf's goons talking as they lit out. Seems there's another player in the game. It's not just us against them."

From his place between two of the Dora Milaje, Tony spoke up. " _Names_ , Barton."

"Ulysses Klaue. He hates Wakanda more than he hates the Avengers."

Wanda pushed the food around on her plate with a fork. "It's _me_ for whom he harbors hostility. Pietro and I were in league with Ultron, and it was he who severed Klaue's hand."

The wall Clint was holding up stayed when he went to refill his glass. "You're one of us, Wanda. _Your_ problem is _ours_."

For once, Tony chose to keep his mouth shut, and Steve sent him silent thanks. "Irrelevant, under the circumstances. We've done this before, when the odds were even less in our favor. We can do it again," he resisted looking at Tony, "as long as we work and act as a team."

Keeping his features neutral when Tony stood up, Steve let him have his say, ready to refute each point, if need be.

"That means we can only have _one_ leader." The billionaire strutted over to lean against the island. For a tense moment, it seemed as if Steve and Tony would battle once again, this time for control of the team. Then, to his surprise, everyone, including Tony, turned to look at him expectantly. Tony lifted his chin, eyes and expression unreadable. "Call it, Cap."

~~O~~

Unable to get comfortable, Wanda rolled over to face the wall, but that didn't work either. As tired as she was, until she located the source of her restlessness, there would be no sleep for her, or for Scott. A quick search found that for which she was looking.

"Something wrong?"

The concern in Scott's voice warmed her. She rolled back to face him, brushing at the hairs over his ear. "The surgery was a success. Cameron is with Maria, waiting for her to wake up. He's asleep, and dreaming of home, of seeing his family and friends, of putting Wakanda behind him, and not going to prison. And though she would deny it, Maria is doing the same." She sat up with the legs crossed, and Scott raised up onto one elbow. "There must be something we can do. All of us wish to go home, but for them, it's much stronger."

"They aren't supposed to be here. They just got caught up in this whole mess." Scott took her hand and kissed the fingers. "It's sweet, this worry, but what can we do?"

"I have an idea."

He sat up, and the sheet fell to his waist, leaving his chest bare. "Please tell me it doesn't involve cryosleep."

Lifting her chin proudly, Wanda smiled. "It does _not_ involve cryosleep."

Wrapping her in his arms, Scott pulled her close, at the same time sliding down so they were lying face to face. They kissed, short and sweet. "Thank God."

~~O~~

With Scott lightly snoring next to her, Wanda felt more loved than at any time since Pietro had died. Yet, uneasiness pervaded her mind. Images that couldn't have been her own memories blinked and flashed, none staying long enough for her to grasp onto them.

She had to concentrate, and she couldn't when Scott was so near.

Lifting the covers, Wanda put one foot then the other on the floor, and carefully stood. She tiptoed from the room. The closer she got to the rooms where Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Natasha were sleeping, the clearer the bits of memory became. She cringed from the rage still moving through Tony's mind that had its origins in the fact that Bucky, had killed his parents while under the control of HYDRA.

Steve put up a good front, pretending his own anger at Tony had abated, and it had somewhat. But it was still there, nonetheless.

Through the minds of her parents, Wanda saw the fight in Siberia from two points of view. Bucky's anger came from several directions, and was mixed with remorse and self-reproach. In his mind, she could see something he'd managed to hide while they were defeating the trigger words. He remembered everything that he'd done, and that had been done to him while he was the Winter Soldier. Some of the guilt came from a place where he tried not to go, but couldn't help himself. Deep inside, where he could only touch it at the times he was most vulnerable, Bucky believed that, if he'd been stronger, HYDRA would never have taken control of his mind, and forced him do their dirty work.

When this upcoming battle was over, Wanda would tell him a few home truths about his tenure as the Winter Soldier. One of the things that had obviously not crossed his mind was that it had taken twenty _years_ , a full two decades, for HYDRA to condition him to respond to the trigger words. To her, that meant he was much stronger than any other person whose mind she had experienced.

There had to be a way to help the friends become so again. No, not cryosleep, but a similar technique to that which she'd used to disorient the Avengers in Johannesburg. Instead of their fears, she would let them see events from an objective point of view.

Standing the hallway, she used psionics to send the Dora Milaje guards down to the lower floors. Taking a deep breath to fortify herself, Wanda created balls of psionic energy between her hands, watching it swell and grow. When the concentration of energy had reached the correct density, she flung the red mist away, and into the minds of her parents, Tony, and Steve.

Wanda stumbled as she too was pulled into their memories of Siberia. Without meaning to, she giggled.

The quartet swung around, their expressions equally confused and irritated. Upon seeing her, Natasha leveled her death glare. "What's going on, _malenkaya_? Why are we here?"

"Before we discuss that, perhaps you would like to change into something less comfortable."

All four were in their pajamas, Steve wearing only the bottoms. With a single thought, Wanda put them into regular clothing. Jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers for the simplicity. "You are all experiencing post-traumatic stress due to the events in Siberia. If you do not come to terms with what happened there, then the rift between you, between all of us, will remain, leaving little chance that our relationships can be repaired."

Tony pushed to the front. Fear pushed at her as did anger, edging up toward rage. "I remember everything like it was _yesterday_ , Wanda. No need for a syndicated rerun."

Steve crossed his arms, adding his glare to the others. "Agreed." He glanced at his companions. "This is a dream. All we have to do is will ourselves awake."

They closed their eyes. Wanda shifted her weight onto one foot, and dropped her hands onto her hips, pursing her lips to keep from smiling.

Bucky was the first to give in. He opened one eye, looked around, seeing they were still on the cliff in front of the compound, and opened the other, his shoulders sagging. "Guys. We're still here. It didn't work."

"Um, _why_ didn't that work?" was Tony's comment, said with a barely noticeable touch of fear.

Wanda had no doubt that he was scared, as were the others. Not one of them wanted to live through those events a second time, but then, it wasn't up to them. "This is _my_ show now. For months, all of you have been avoiding facing what happened, and it's keeping you awake at night. And when you do sleep, your dreams are filled with terrifying images." She paced in front of them, and stopped, meeting each set of eyes. "Your nightmares often 'leak' into mine, forcing me to relive them with you, as well as my own nightmares from the Raft. This _must_ be done, if only for the sake of _my_ sanity."

The four companions looked at each other, conscience-stricken that they'd cause emotional harm to her.

Taking a step forward to let the men know that she would speak on their behalf, Natasha pursed her lips in disapproval. "This is neither the time nor the place, _malyutka_."

The men came to stand with Natasha. Bucky draped an arm around her shoulder. "She's right, _moy rebenok_. Please, let us go."

"You act as if I am holding you prisoner." Wanda's smile went away. "Very well. If all of you agree to either allow me to help you, or promise to get help on your own, you may go."

Sensing acquiescence from everyone, Wanda released her parents, Steve and Tony back to their own dreams, giving them, and herself, a respite from the nightmares. Just as Siberia was fading, she saw the image of a man reaching out to her. Then, she returned to Scott's arms. Sighing in her sleep, she snuggled closer to his warmth.

 **The Maple Street Diner**

 **Early Morning**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

"Would you rather go somewhere else?"

 _Taylor really is sweet. Can't believe he took the time to study Pakistani culture just because we work together_ , Layia thought to herself. "Not really. I'm hungry, but not that hungry."

He opened the door, and followed her in. They found a booth towards the back of the nearly full dining room. He smiled sheepishly as they sat down across from each other. "I am _always_ hungry, due to my fast metabolism."

A server came around to drop off menus and glasses of water. Layia held up two fingers. "One condition when we go out to eat, movies, whatever. Talk about work and my ex-boyfriend is not allowed."

He put on a mock frown, and saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

In his accent, the stern words sounded odd. She turned a giggle into a throat clearing, and picked up a menu. It wasn't necessary though. Her choice had already been made. Taylor scanned the menu, and set it with hers at the end of the table, signaling to the server that they were ready. The woman returned, the pen poised over the pad. "I will have the silver dollar pancakes and hot chocolate."

"And you, sir?"

"I will have the Big and Spicy Breakfast and hot chocolate as well."

The woman picked up the menus and left to put their order in. Layia unfolded the napkin and laid it over her lap. "You weren't kidding about being hungry."

A different server brought their drinks. "I do not kid about food," Taylor said with a sly smile. "What shall we talk about?"

"School. I could come to your house after dinner to help you study, and we can ride to work together. How's that sound?"

"It sounds like you will be meeting my family tonight." His tone held a hint of warning. "They will have many questions. You are the first friend I've brought home, and you are a girl." Layia plucked at the front of her hijab, a gesture he mistook for another. "Do not be nervous. You will like my family, and they will like you."

Layia took a sip of water and returned the glass to the coaster. "Not nervous." She indicated the hijab. "I can't wait to take this off."

He stirred his drink, and set the spoon on the edge of the saucer. "You sound as if you do not care to wear it."

"There's a good reason for that. I _don't_." Using a spoon, Layia scooped the whipped cream from her drink. "You're wondering why I'm wearing it then."

"It is not my place to ask such questions of a girl to whom I am not committed."

Just barely, Layia kept from laughing at his phrasing. To do so would've been rude. "These days, many women choose not to wear a hijab. I do it to honor my parents, who prefer their daughters to adhere to many of the old traditions regarding the way women dress. My father is unbending, slowly. Being covered up all the time can be rough, especially in summer. If I had my way, I'd wear tank tops, shorts, and flip-flops once the temps get above twenty-six."

A third server brought their food before Taylor could respond. "Can I get you anything else?"

At the same time, Layia and Taylor said, "More hot chocolate!"

Grinning, the young man hurried away. "Maggie! Two more hot chocolates for the couple in the corner!"

 **Stark Tower**

 **Tony's Lab**

Leaning on his cane, Rhodey tapped his code into the keypad, and entered Tony's lab. Most of his mobility had returned, though not enough for the Air Force to allow him to fly. Like most flyboys, he ate, drank and slept being a pilot. He needed to feel that rush of adrenaline.

He made his way over to the suit alcoves, but didn't see the new WarMachine suit he was certain Tony had been building. Then, in the corner, he found a darkened alcove.

Rhodey propped the cane against the wall, remembering fondly the day Tony had given it to him.

 _Replica? Not on_ _my_ _watch._ _That_ _, my friend, is the genuine article. Used by the great man himself, Bat Masterson. Bought it off a collector. You'd be surprised what people are willing to part with when you build a new wing on the hospital and name it after their mother_.

The alcove lit up, showing a brand spanking new WarMachine suit. His old one had more than a few miles on it. Then there was the problem of it having been blasted by Vision. "Friday?"

He turned at the voice speaking from the hologrid. " _Name's Reggie, Colonel Rhodes. How may I assist?_ "

Squinting at the 3D image, Rhodey hobbled over to where he could see her better. Her long red hair had been replaced with short dark hair, parted on the right, in a style his mother called a stacked bob. A hologram would hardly need the oversized, black-framed glasses perched on the end of her nose.

Her clothing was even more shocking. Black skinny low-rise pants with numerous buckles, a black midriff top with thin straps, a black leather jacket, and black combat boots. The outfit was accessorized by black leather bracelets on both wrists, a lacy choker from which chains and a blood red stone dangled, matching earrings, and silver rings on both hands, the one on her left ring finger had a stone that matched the others. She did not have a lip, navel, or nose ring. _Small favors_.

" _Something wrong, colonel?_ "

Suddenly realizing that he was staring, Rhodey blinked. "What happened to Friday?"

The hologram shifted her weight onto one foot, the hip on that side sticking out. " _She's around. Got herself a body so she and Vision could snog. I'm a copy of her program. Or was. Together, we've been tweaking it_."

He nodded as if he understood, and she bought it. "Where's Tony?"

Reggie examined her nails, and chewed gum. " _Gone to Wakanda to help stop the coup. Want I should give him a call for you?_ "

Rhodey latched onto the one thing she'd said so far that made sense. "Coup? That's really a thing?"

" _Yup. Want me to make the call or not? Tick, tock._ "

"Not. He's going to need help." He turned around, and went back to the alcove. "Power-up the WarMachine suit."

Reggie's image blurred, and when it cleared, she'd changed her clothes, going from Goth to casual. Faded blue jeans, a white long-sleeved top with a round neckline, a burgundy-colored cable-knit vest, and matching Sketchers.

"No can do. The suit's not combat-ready yet." He spun around, at the sound of another female voice, nearly toppling over backward. In an instant, an attractive redhead caught him before he hit the floor. "Steady there, colonel."

She slowly released him, and stepped back, letting him stand on his own. This face was familiar, but having her there instead of as a hologram kinda freaked him out. She too was dressed casually in blue jeans, and a black long-sleeved graphic tee, and black high-tops. "Friday?"

Smiling, she handed over his cane, and bowed. "At your service."

Rhodey couldn't help it. He looked her up and down, returning to her face. "What the _hell_ has Tony been up to?"

 **The Maple Street Diner**

 **Early Morning**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

Taylor watched the man walk away, his eyebrows raised. From the corner of his eye, he saw the same look on Layia's face. As she turned back toward him, one side of her mouth turned up, and he mirrored her. "I was not aware that we were dating."

Using his knife and fork, he cut a big bite of the chorizo, jalapeños, sautéed mushroom and onions, cheddar cheese, spicy pepper sauce, all wrapped up in a huge omelet. It came with seasoned red potatoes, grilled chicken breast, pepper jack cheese, and two hot biscuits. The glint in Layia's eyes told him she was about to lay a zinger on him.

"So they tell me." Her tone was sarcastic. "Turns out, we've been secretly dating for over three years. It was so secret, even we didn't know. Then just last week, we got engaged."

"Too bad someone didn't tell me. I might have enjoyed it more, had I known."

"Um…" They looked up to see one of the servers with their fresh cups of hot chocolate, looking uncomfortable. "S-sorry. We thought you were…" she bit her lip, "…never mind." She quickly set the cups on the table, and rushed away.

Layia pursed her lips to keep from laughing. "Me too."

Layia pursed her lips to keep from laughing while he slathered butter on one of the biscuits. "Refresh my memory. Where did we meet?"

His companion swallowed, sipped her hot chocolate, and wiped her mouth before speaking. "The Amalfi Coast during summer break from university. You were so handsome in your bright yellow boardshorts, and sun-bleached hair." She cut one of her pancakes in half, sighing nostalgically. "And I was resplendent in modest swim attire, navy blue, with an attached hijab."

"It was love at first sight."

"Naturally."

Taylor couldn't help himself. He chuckled, just once, but that was all it took to set them both off. Layia held the napkin over her mouth to muffle the sound, and he pressed his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat to stop laughing.

The hilarity suddenly cut off, and a strange feeling came over him. He shivered in the frigid wind that blew snow and ice into his face where it melted, and refroze. The interior of the diner was replaced with a rocky bluff rising high over roiling seas. "Whoa, that is a _long_ way down."

A touch of vertigo sent him stumbling back from the cliff's edge. At the slamming of metal on metal Taylor spun around, mystified to see a set of fortified steel doors embedded into a rocky crag, giving him the impression that it was only a small part of a vast underground complex.

" _Tay-ay-ay-lor-r-r-r_ …"

The wind was calling out to him. He turned in a circle, the ice and snow becoming thicker, seeming to take on the shape of a woman. Her long hair fluttered around her head as she reached out, fingers curled into claws.

" _Ta-a-a-ay-lor-r_ … _Tay-ay-lo-o-or-r-r-r_ …"

The woman floated backward, mesmerizing him, drawing him closer to the cliff. Slowly, he made his way toward the edge, trying to make out her face. Something grabbed him by the arm, something he couldn't see. It was pulling him ever closer. He tugged, but it was much stronger.

He dug his heels in to keep from being drawn toward the cliff, but it did no good. He was pushed from behind. Taylor stumbled forward, and fell over the edge toward rocks and wild surf below.

 **TBC**

Nyama Na Irio (Steak and Irio), Kenya - Originally a dish of the Kikuyu people, _irio_ is a hearty and nutritious accompaniment to meals that has become popular throughout Kenya. It has many variations, but potatoes and peas are the staple ingredients with corn the most common addition. Irio is famously paired with grilled steak in the combination known as _nyama na irio_.

Canada mostly uses the Celsius scale, except near the border with the United States, where you will find both Fahrenheit and Celsius used. As above, 26C = 79F.

"Bottom of the River" is a song recorded by American fold rock band Delta Rae, and written by Eric Richard Holljes and Ian Christian Holljes.


	57. Visions in My Head

**A/N:** Spoiler Alert! This story was inspired by _Captain America: Civil War_.

Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta. Thanks also to winter-Soldier-88 for brainstorming assistance.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **Civil War**

 **I Still Believe**

 **Visions in My Head**

 **The Maple Street Diner**

 **Early Morning**

 **Vancouver, B.C.**

A hand grabbed Taylor before he hit the water, and suddenly, he found himself once again sitting across from Layia. She had hold of the wrist gripping the fork like a lifeline. Their eyes met, and she slowly released him. He set the fork on the edge of his plate, picked up the hot chocolate, and drank it down, making a face because it was lukewarm. Layia's brown eyes were filled with concern, though not fear as he thought they might. "What happened?"

"Not sure. You stared into space for a while, complained about being cold, and yelled that you were falling." The servers watching them with distrust from behind the counter. "Creeped out the staff. And me a little."

The vision of being on the icy cliff came back to Taylor, and he shivered involuntarily. "I am sorry. Could I get more hot chocolate, please?"

She slid out of the booth. "I'll get it, and the check." A few minutes later, Layia returned with a carafe, a can of whipped cream, two large insulated to-go cups, and no check. She poured for both of them, added the whipped cream, and pushed his across the table. "There's no charge for the food. They didn't say anything, but I don't think they want us to come back."

Taylor sipped his drink and set it in the saucer. "I'm too embarrassed to come back. They will always look at me strangely, all because of the seizures that cannot be controlled."

Layia's slender fingers wrapped around his palm, squeezing lightly. "That's not _your_ fault, Tay. Still, there are many people out there who are afraid of what they don't understand."

He took another sip, using the time to check out the staff. They'd moved on to other patrons, while still casting the occasional glance over their shoulders. He was sure the manager would've asked them to leave, but with all the negative publicity in social media recently, they didn't dare. Taylor filled the to-go cups with the leftover hot chocolate. Layia squirted whipped cream into both, and they put the lids on.

Reaching into his back pocket, Taylor brought out his wallet, tossed enough cash on the table to cover their bill plus a generous tip, and stood. The wallet went back into his pocket as Layia came up next to him. He took her coat, and helped her on with it. Without giving anyone the satisfaction of complaining, the pair left the diner, got in Layia's car, and drove away. At the light, he said, "Too bad we have to find another place to eat. I liked their food."

A small huff came from Layia. "Meh. Mine was okay. Nothing to write home about."

They looked at each other and laughed. Taylor relaxed at the sound of her laughter. "You could have dinner with us tonight, before we study. Mother and Father are both excellent cooks, and I am fair." A thought occurred to him. "I should let them know we will have company tonight so they will be prepared." He took out his phone and sent a text to his parents.

 _A friend is coming to help me study tonight, and will be joining us for dinner_.

Julia and Adam responded within seconds, making him smile. "They are anxious to meet you."

Layia pulled her glasses down to look at him over the top with a generous helping of reproach. "You didn't tell them I'm a girl, did you?"

Having regained his humor, Taylor put the phone away, ignoring the additional texts wanting details. "It will be our little secret. At least until you arrive."

"You're _sure_ they'll like me?"

He sipped his drink, and set it in the cup holder. "You are quite likeable, so of course they will." Layia looked pleased with herself. "What would your family think of _me_?"

"The answer to that is like opening a can of worms that can fly. With Muslims, it's The Big Question. Can guys and girls be just friends? It's a debate that's been explored throughout all of history, and not just with Muslims. There are books, songs, poetry and numerous romantic comedies and dramas on the subject. In our case, religion is a part of the mix simply because I'm Muslim, and that leads to dangerous territory. You see, the Quran commands men to reform themselves first and exclusively, killing the rape culture. Basically, it means that men shouldn't look at women simply because they wear revealing clothing. The opposite of Western culture where it's all on the woman to prevent rape by dressing modestly, which has nothing to do with a crime that's about power and control, not sex."

Thinking over what she said, Taylor came to the same conclusion. "For your culture, it's the man's job to prevent rape, and nearly every other culture it's the woman's. I believe the responsibility should be equal among the genders, without regard to religion or culture. Because a woman wears a tiny bathing suit or other revealing clothing does not mean she is, I believe the term is 'asking for it'. I often find myself staring at such women, and that is _my_ fault, not theirs. The choice of clothing is the woman's and always will be. _I_ choose to allow myself to be distracted by it, or not. Either way, I do not believe women _want_ to be assaulted. Why would they wish that upon themselves?"

"Then there's the victim shaming when the man chose to commit the crime. The clothing the woman wears is irrelevant."

Taylor shifted in his seat. Not out of discomfort for the subject. He brought it up, after all. "Unfortunately, there is a reason it is still called a 'man's world'. Not a good one, but a reason."

Layia pulled to the curb and put the car in park. "Are you _sure_ you're not Muslim?"

Did he want to reveal his true past to someone he'd only known a few weeks? Taylor was certain as he could be that she was trustworthy and would not share this secret. "You cannot tell anyone what I am about to reveal."

"I won't. Promise."

"The truth is I do not know where I am from. Not the culture or what religion I subscribed to in the past, if any. I pray with the family because it makes them happy, not due to any specific belief system." Taylor looked out the window, watching the breeze move the bare branches of the trees. "I was found unconscious in a park in Bucharest less than a year ago and taken to hospital for treatment. Afterward, because I had no memory of my identity or my past, the doctors sent me to a mental health facility where I was observed and evaluated by one of the staff psychologists. She determined that I was not a threat to society or to myself, and I was released. Because I had nowhere to go, Dr. Julia Clancy, the psychologist who evaluated me, and her husband, Adam took me in."

He glanced at Layia, gauging her reaction, seeing only curiosity. "Because I didn't know my name, I chose to be called Taylor. Julia and Adam gave me their last name, and when the family returned to British Columbia, they asked me to join them." He saw movement in the corner of his eye, and a moment later, Layia took hold of his hand where it lay on the consol between them. "Adam's position gave him access to those who are able to create documentation stating that I was adopted by the Clancy family."

The silence stretched longer than Taylor would've liked until Layia squeezed his hand again and let go. "It can't be easy for you, not knowing where you're from or who you really are."

"It is something I have had to come to terms with. That and not knowing how I acquired my special talent." Layia watched him, as if making a decision about the information he'd given her.

"One question." A humorous glint came into her eyes. "I can make portals, and you can run really fast. Why does either of us need a car to get to work?"

That wasn't what Taylor thought she would ask. "Camouflage?" He unbuckled the seatbelt and opened the door. "I will go home from here. Work begins at eleven tonight. Is seven good?"

"Perfect. Just need the address."

Taylor got out, and closed the door, sent her a text, and waved good-bye. After she turned the corner, he took off, arriving at home within moments. It was late enough that everyone but Julia was gone.

She came down the stairs as he was taking off his jacket and hanging it in the closet. "Morning. So, company for dinner. I'm glad to see you making friends outside the family."

He handed over her coat, and closed the closet. "Before you go, could we talk?"

"Sure. What's wrong?"

"My friend and I had breakfast, and while we were eating…"

Julia set her briefcase, purse and coat on the sofa, drawing him over to sit beside her. "You had another seizure."

Though he was hesitant, Taylor needed someone to confide in, and whether in her role as psychologist or mother, he'd always been able to tell her anything. "This time, it was different. More like a vision. As if I were seeing the world through another's eyes."

"What did you see in this vision?"

Taylor rubbed his arms through the material of his shirt. "I was standing on a high cliff with rocks and water far below. It was very cold, frigid, and desolate. No other people around that I could see. I heard a door slam, and when I turned around, there was a metal structure nearly covered in snow and ice. To the right of the door, there was a panel that I believe held the controls. Though I did not venture inside, the feeling was that the majority of this place lay underground, and that it was immense. Then, I heard my name on the wind. Within the ice and snow, I saw the form of a woman with long hair. She grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the precipice." He shivered at the memory. "I returned to myself, still sitting in the diner with my friend."

"Did you recognize the woman's face? Could she have been a memory from the years before we met?"

He raised his hands and slapped his thighs. "Her features caused no sensation of familiarity, and she called me Taylor. If she is someone I knew before, would she not have used the name given to me by my parents?"

"You'd think so. The brain is a complex organ. It often plays tricks on us. We think we see one thing when it's really something quite different. In dreams, it uses metaphors and surreal images to take the place of more familiar objects, people and places, or substitutes concepts and facsimiles picked up by our subconscious in place of known values."

Taylor stood and helped Julia into her coat. "Then my subconscious has a strange sense of humor." He followed her to the door with her briefcase, purse and keys. "Go shrink some minds. I will prepare dinner and put it in the slow cooker before bed so that it will be nearly ready when you get home."

Julia reached up to kiss his cheek. "We're so lucky we found you."

" _I_ am the lucky one. If you had not taken me in, I would literally be alone in this world." He closed the door, and rushed through his morning chores, unable to banish the dreamlike images from his mind. When he finally lay down, he stared at the ceiling for a long time before allowing sleep to take over.

 **Wakanda**

 **Location Unknown**

 **Mid-Afternoon**

The man quickly applied the traditional face paint, pulled on the clothing of a warrior, and gathered his weapons, though he had no need of them. His hand-to-hand skills were above reproach. He'd been trained in many forms of fighting almost from the day he could walk. Training that continued to this day, because, as the Black Widow has said, everyone needs practice.

On his previous visit, he had made certain that the American soldier, Sam Wilson, would know the codes to get his people into the palace so they could prepare for battle. As such went, the one from last night was tame compared to some in which he'd participated. But tonight, the Vyfde Kolom would see the folly of their ways in attacking a country that has trained for this sort of thing since the dawn of time.

Though he didn't need them, the weight of the knives, chakram, collapsible quarterstaff and spear comforted him. He would stand with the others, the fugitives of the Accords, the Dora Milaje, and Wakanda's military, and together, they would prevail.

 **The Palace**

 **Before Sunset**

Clouds dotted the sky, easing the glare of the afternoon sun. Not that it bothered Steve. He just wanted this thing with Hrolf over with, so they could deal with Klaw, and find Kaya. It was killing him, this not knowing. But he couldn't let worry invade his concentration. The headset in his ear beeped. "Sam?"

" _In place, Steve. Ready to go on your command_."

"Stand by."

His headset crackled, bringing with it the sound of metal on metal, and the _zzzt_ of electricity barely contained. " _My fighting skills are legendary, Old Man, yet I'm relegated to appliance repairman? Vision and I should be on the frontlines with the rest_."

Natasha sidled up to Steve, keeping her voice low so those without comms wouldn't hear. "Says the man who had thirty cars dropped on him at the Leipzig/Halle Airport."

Over Tony's protest, Steve ordered, "Save it. We need the grid back up and running ASAP, and you're not just the best man for the job, you're the only one." Appealing to Tony's ego nearly always got him the results he was looking for.

Everyone had been briefed and were ready for this to end, as were Steve and his people. They all knew what to do, and what signals to look for. Steve hefted the shiny black shield, sending a silent prayer for Kaya's safety.

Bucky came up on his other side. "You don't really believe all that crap about meteors and the blood moon do you?"

Steve took a moment to think over what he'd read in the follow-up to the original email.

 _Tonight, the world will experience its second blood moon in less than two years. It will occur at the same time as the_ _Neofelis meteor shower, which will be especially heavy this year. These extraordinary events happening simultaneously were written about in Wakandan legend. It is said that going into battle as the moon has just begun to crest the horizon assures the leader victory over his or her opponents._

 _The leader of the_ _Vyfde Kolom_ _would see this event as a sign that he will be triumphant in his quest to become king of Wakanda._

 _He must be stopped before he destroys all that we and our ancestors have built. The reigning monarch, crowned or not, must be the one to defeat the leader of the_ _Vyfde Kolom_ _, and be seen doing it, by his people and ours. This will show his followers that he is not a god who has taken human form, but just a man._

"Doesn't matter what I believe, Buck. I've seen so many fantastic things before and after the ice, that I know enough not to rule anything out. If Hrolf believes it, that's all that counts."

Imani came to stand with them, a spear in her left hand. "I do not understand how we will denounce Hrolf to his followers. We have no leader with which to defeat him. T'Challa is dead, as is the uncle. Dr. Hawa is unwilling to engage in battle, and Princess Kaya's fate is unknown. Next in line would be cousins who are too young, or out of the country at this time."

Through their headsets, Sam spoke. " _Steve, didn't you and Tic-Tac say you ran into the Black Panther? What happened to him?_ "

From his perch on the roof of the palace, Clint added his voice. " _He's probably lurking around, waiting for the right time to join the fight. That is if you go by the legends._ "

Exhaling hard, Steve raised his chin. "We'll find out soon enough. Back to your posts. The sun's going down soon. However, we can't rely on Hrolf to adhere to an artificially imposed schedule."

Wanda's soft voice whispered in his ear, " _We have many legends in Sokovia, some of which specify the exact time and place for some events_."

His companions faded away, all but Bucky, Natasha, Imani and Ife. They would be the vanguard. Once again, the device at his hip vibrated, another signal from Cameron, who had been monitoring the city in hopes of locating Hrolf's hideout, or any other information he could find. Holding in a groan, Steve tapped his headset. "All units. Stay sharp. Attack is imminent."

" _Take a moment to gather your thoughts, people. Wouldn't want to rush into anything_ ," Tony's voice commented with a touch of humor.

Steve shook his head, grinning, but didn't respond. He'd just gotten another message from Cameron. "Wait for the signal. Oh, and watch out for the Sparrow Hawk."

Sensing confusion from those nearby, Steve mused that not all of their people would get the reference, and those that did would explain it to the rest. Hopefully, only someone who knew the origins of NVGs, or Night Vision Goggles. With Wakandan technology being so far above the rest of the world, the hardware wouldn't be as bulky as in the past. The goggles Sam wore served several functions aside from giving him the ability to see in the dark. The Wakandan replacements made his old ones obsolete. He'd never want to go back. None of them would.

Steve was certain that the scientists here would be able to duplicate both Sam's wingpack and Scott's suit, given time. Not even Stark Industries had the technology required for the Ant-Man suit. From his research, Dr. Pym refused to allow a Stark to get his hands on the Pym particle that made the suit work. Tony himself had often expressed dismay at not being able to recreate the particle, and wondered what had happened between his father and Pym that the man was so distrustful of the Stark family.

~~O~~

From his perch high above the city, Clint scanned the streets with a pair of powerful binoculars that looked like ordinary sunglasses. Touching the right earpiece increased magnification, the left reduced it. He also had a heads-up display that provided time, date and weather conditions.

He activated the heat sensors, searching the buildings on the path that the retreating rebels had taken the night before when they cut and run. Many buildings were impervious to scanning, and he hoped the general population had done as directed and evacuated to the outlying areas. As always, there would be some who either didn't take the order seriously, stayed behind to watch the events unfold, or just didn't want to go. It reminded Clint of all the lives lost due to natural disasters when residents didn't heed the evacuation orders issued by the government and had parties instead.

Just because the rebels had retreated to the west didn't mean that's where they would attack from. That's why there were three others, members of the Dora Milaje, performing this same operation from other vantage points. Clint activated his headset on the frequency assigned to his team, Zahra, Ny'asia, and Ka'Mya. "Red One to Reds Two, Three, and Four. Sitrep."

" _Red Two, all clear_." This was Ka'Mya, the least verbose of the three.

" _Red Three, nothing to report_." Zahra carried more weapons hidden on her person than Natasha.

" _Red Four, the same. No activity at this time_." Of the three, Ny'asia spoke out most often, and seemed not nervous, but anxious to engage in battle. This bothered Clint because soldiers should always be ready for a fight while doing everything they could to avoid it. Ny'asia relished it. He sensed a tenuous hold on her restraint that would snap at the least provocation. She would be the one most likely to brag about the number of kills she'd committed without the aid of another.

While it was refreshing having an all-business team, Clint missed the friendly bantering he enjoyed with the Avengers. " _Acknowledged. Stay sharp_." The last was unnecessary. The Dora Milaje were always on the ball. He clicked over to another frequency. "Barton to Cap."

" _Go ahead_."

"Just calling to report that there's nothing to report. Yet."

Clint pictured Steve's disappointed Cap face. It had almost the same affect on women that what Natasha called his puppy eyes did, turning a no into a yes within seconds, depending on the circumstances. But the what worked most often was if-we-get-stopped-remember-you're-deaf-and-I-don't-speak-English. Unfortunately, none of those would work here, or this would've been over long ago.

Wanda interrupted. " _The moon cresting the horizon to the east. The meteor shower should begin soon as well_."

" _Beginning now, keep unnecessary chatter to a minimum, guys. If Klaue has joined forces with Hrolf, this could turn into a bloodbath_."

He did, and didn't, agree with Steve's assessment, but now wasn't the time to point out the obvious.

Ny'asia broke into the conversation. " _They're coming. An advance guard approaches from the east_."

Clint had left the channel to the rest of the team open, and the excitement in her voice could be heard by everyone. Without seeing their faces, he knew that they knew she would be one to look out for. That bloodlust could take over and she might not recognize the difference between friend and foe. He patted the secret pocket of his suit to reassure himself that the supply of Taser disks was still there. If it came down to it, he would take her down himself necessary. Someone had to make the hard choices, and today, it was on all of them.

~~O~~

Using the suit, Tony performed a diagnostic on the power grid. According to the results, only vital points were hit, meaning that someone had inside knowledge of the inner workings. _It's always an inside job. Wonder what Klaue promised him or her to get them to go along with the plan. Money and power are always good incentives to assign the bad guys_.

As he worked, Tony spoke to the suit standing sentry nearby. "Reggie, get Friday on the line."

" _Right away, boss_."

Seconds later, the familiar voice of the AI turned life-model decoy came on the line. " _At your command, Mr. Stark_.

"What's the word on our MIT project?"

The suit projected a holographic image of Friday in front of him. " _The target is becoming restless, and may bolt at any time_."

"If it happens, you know what to do."

" _Enact the capture-the-flag protocol. Everything's in place, boss. The vehicles, decoys, and pizza are in place, and awaiting the word_."

Going old school for some of the repairs, Tony put on a welder's helmet and picked up a welding torch. "Keep on it, Friday. Reggie, give her anything she needs to complete this mission."

" _You got it, boss_."

The hologram of Friday winked out, and the open line to Reggie closed, leaving him in peace. Sort of. Vision stood guard outside the power station, having morphed his outward appearance to more closely resemble a native of Wakanda. If he needed the android's assistance, he would be available within moments. "Why do kids have to be so hard-headed?"

 **MIT Off-Campus Housing**

 **Cambridge, Massachusetts**

In the apartment she had lived in since her first year at MIT, the student who went by the name Autumn Townsend paced from one end of the living room to the other while listening for more information on the coup in Wakanda. Most of the reports had the aftertaste of speculation rather than the full-bodied piquancy of fact. Even with video evidence, she still did not believe that the king of Wakanda was dead. How could he be? While not immortal, myths and legends stated that the king of Wakanda was difficult to kill. T'Challa would have found a way to survive the attack in the park.

She shut off the television, gathered the bare minimum possessions that she would need for her journey, and left the apartment. On the way down the stairs, she called for a car to take her to a private airstrip where transportation always stood ready, should it be needed. She sent the signal and received a positive response.

Through the glass doors of the lobby, she could see the car waiting to whisk her away. Without waiting for the driver to assist, she climbed in the back and shut the door. "We must hurry. Take the quickest route possible."

The woman behind the wheel had red hair tucked up under the cap of her uniform. "Of course, miss. Please fasten your seatbelt."

As Autumn did so, the automatic locks clicked, and the vehicle pulled into traffic. To pass the time, she powered up her computer to work on a project for an up-coming robotics competition in which she was an individual entrant rather than part of a team.

After a while, she noticed that the streets were unfamiliar, and that they were headed in the wrong direction. Autumn activated the intercom. "You're going the wrong way. Turn around immediately or I will…"

The driver chuckled. Not with derision, but as if she found her amusing. "What will you do to me?"

"Have you arrested for holding me against my will. You will spend many years in prison for this offense you are committing."

"How am I holding you against your will? No one forced you to get in the car."

Angry that the driver wouldn't obey her commands, Autumn took out her phone. However, when she attempted to make a call, the device sparked and became too hot to hold. It fell to the floor of the car. There were more sparks, a small flame, and the device died an ignoble death. Without picking it up, she could see that it would no longer function.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Autumn opened the panel that controlled the partition between the compartments, only to find that they had been disabled. Frustrated, she pounded on the partition. "You will release me immediately, or I will see you severely punished in the name of…"

Smoke filled the rear compartment. Autumn coughed, and her eyes drooped as the gas did its work.

~~O~~

In the rearview mirror, Friday watched her passenger slump on the seat and fall to the side. She activated the passenger restraint system to guarantee her safety and kept driving.

Upon arrival at the destination, Friday parked near the entrance, got out and opened the rear door. She turned the young woman onto her back and sat her up. Bending at the knees, she pulled her over onto one shoulder in a fireman's carry and went inside where she was met by Colonel Rhodes, who followed her to the lift. "She okay?"

"Yes, but she won't be a happy camper when she wakes up. The gas didn't hurt her. Might have a headache when she wakes up, but nothing more."

Rhodey followed Friday out of the lift on the residential floor, using his cane for support. "I could've carried her."

"No offense, colonel, but you're in no shape for this kind of work. I have no doubt that under normal circumstances, you're more than capable, but with limited strength in your legs, you wouldn't have been able to go the distance." Her companion opened the door and followed her inside. She lay the girl on the bed with her head on the pillow and removed her shoes. "The soporific will wear off soon and we need to be ready. She will be decidedly unhappy to find herself confined."

Peering at the girl's face, Rhodey shook his head. Autumn was dressed in close-fitting workout pants and a sports bra. Her long hair was twisted into a series of braids that had been wrapped around the top of her head forming a high bun. The only adornments she wore were a pair of gold and diamond stud earrings, a tattoo on her right wrist, and another on her upper back, only part of which could be seen above her clothing. "She's really a princess?"

Friday motioned, and Rhodey stepped out into the hall with her. "Indeed, she is, colonel. The young woman I just kidnapped is Princess Shuri of Wakanda, the secret younger sister of King T'Challa."

 **TBC**

Shuri = Autumn Village in Japanese, hence the alias Autumn Townsend


End file.
